Grunkles to the Rescue
by Lizzy322
Summary: A series of oneshots where the Grunkles are out to save the day. Sometimes reluctantly. Someone's gotta be there to protect the niblings. Current: Stan is too cheap for fireworks. Ford decides to build some instead, and surprise the niblings. Unfortunately, the "fire" portion is far more prominent.
1. Up a Tree

A/N: I don't own Gravity Falls. Quite obviously. This is just a collection of drabbles and oneshots for the niblings to count on their Grunkles to bail them outta trouble. Will be updated sporadically, but at the very least weekly. These are done in casual settings, so no end of the world apocalyptic scenarios took place.

I'm not abandoning my other series. Just sharpening my writing skills with midnight drabbles. Can't let it go blunt.

* * *

"I don't know, Ducktective...surely, it was a...you don't think?"

"Quack, quack... _QUACK."_

The TV blared loud music, indicating an intense scene, but Mabel wasn't all too surprised. This episode was a rerun after all.

She sat on the rug, hands fiddling with a half-made sweater that was only keeping her busy. To put it plainly, she was bored, and no amount of knitting needles and fluorescent colored yarn was going to entertain her enough.

Waddles sat snuggled by her side, sound asleep, and she gave a small sigh. She was missing the person who usually sat on her other side, to laugh at the cartoons with her and suggest colors for sweaters. But Grunkle Stan had insisted on taking Dipper to go grocery shopping. Something about "learning the art of shoplifting while young", and Dipper hadn't been too reluctant in getting out of the house.

Mabel set down her craft supplies, lifting herself on her elbows and glancing towards the front door. Great Uncle Ford was busy in his lab, and wouldn't be up for a very long while. She couldn't count on him to give entertainment or play with her.

"C'mon, Waddles!" She stated, pushing herself to her feet and clicking off the television as her pig lifted its head. "Let's go play outside!"

She headed into the foyer, quickly scribbling out a note in smelly marker, and slapping it on the front door before swinging it open and ushering Waddles through. She slammed it behind her and bounded off the porch, standing in the front yard for a second to contemplate over how she could entertain herself.

The day wasn't scorching like the earlier summer days had been. The worst of that was seemingly over, and there was a gentle breeze that removed any stuffiness in the air. A few clouds wandered in the sky, and Mabel figured retreating into the shade of the woods would bring the temperature at a good level where she could comfortably run around.

She patted the grappling hook she kept around, just in case she ran into those pesky gnomes again, and trotted off into the trees with Waddles at her heels.

Normally, she felt safer wandering the woods when the journals were on hand, but Dipper kept his practically glued to his side nowadays. It wasn't like she couldn't manage roaming around herself though. She had Waddles the brave protector, and...well, legs were for running. Playing dead sometimes worked too. It depended on the circumstances.

But as she walked, nothing seemed ready to disturb her. It was a peaceful enough day, and all Mabel ran into were a few beautiful butterflies and some fields of clovers or flowers. She climbed over a log, Waddles hobbling after, and she hummed with contentment. Walking in the woods was better than sitting in front of the TV without her brother alongside.

Granted, the walk would be super duper more fun with him, but she figured beggars couldn't be choosers...or something like that.

"We should play tag, Waddles!" Mabel said as she sidestepped a bush. Waddles snorted in response, and Mabel heaved a sigh. "Yeah, you're right. We need more space! We should look for some kinda clearing...I think Dipper and I found one a few days ago somewhere here!"

She continued bounding forward, her loyal pig by her side, but no clearing came into view. Regardless, she walked on, until she grew bored and decided to use her grappling hook to swing along branches.

It proved to be a much more fun method of travel, she found, as she swung from branch to branch and covered more ground as well. Waddles had to pick up his pace, and Mabel giggled as he maneuvered around the bushes and nearly got stuck in one.

"C'mon, Waddles, I'll take you along!" She stated, stopping for a second to let him catch up to her. She picked him up, and tucked him under one arm, before shooting out the grappling hook.

However, the added weight of her beloved pig was unexpected, and her grip slipped once she let go. She screeched a little as she landed back on the ground with a painful thump, her grappling hook shooting upwards into the trees. And stayed there.

"...uh oh." She voiced, putting Waddles down and staring up at the tree it had disappeared into. "Ugh...Waddles, I've gotta go get that. You stay here and guard me!"

Waddles snorted in response.

Mabel glanced back up to where her grappling hook had disappeared, and tracked down the tree that would lead up to it. She found it, and used the support of a nearby log to reach the first branch.

Climbing trees wasn't anything new, and she loved using them to jump around like a ninja and sometimes scare Dipper by popping out of random places. She wasn't perfect, but knew enough of what she was doing to scale the tree effectively.

The grappling hook however...turned out to be up higher than she thought it would.

She moved up branch by branch, the wood becoming thinner under her feet. Pine needles caught onto her sweater, and the scent would be imprinted on her for sure by the time she came down. She smiled a little as sap stuck onto her palm, memories of the stuff sticking her face to her Grunkle's hand coming into mind. Finally, her weapon came into view.

"I found it, Waddles!" She cheered, reaching out to grab it. Her fingers brushed the plastic, and she reached farther. She made a move to grab it...but her fingers hit it and sent it plummeting to the ground.

"Oh no! Waddles, catch it!" She called, and heard it hit the ground. "...thanks, Waddles. I guess I'll just..." She trailed off as she looked beneath her.

Well. That was...

That was much farther down than she thought the floor would be.

Her heart began to pound in her chest as she stared down past a wall of pine needles and spiky branches. She had planned on using her grappling hook to make it to the floor safely...and climbing down without it would be...difficult.

She...she had forgotten about her crippling fear of heights.

And the fear came crashing back before she could register anything, before a plan B could make it to her mind.

She took in a breath, gripping onto the tree trunk. "It's okay, Mabel. You got this. You can get over this f-fear...like Dipper said, I just gotta...not look down."

But she looked down anyway, and nearly screamed. Waddles looked like a small ant below, as he stared up expectantly, wondering why his owner hadn't returned back down to resume their adventure.

Suddenly, the branch her left foot was supported on cracked and snapped off, and she released a shrill scream of terror as she scrambled to set her foot on another branch. Her hands began to shake, as she realized climbing down was going to be a very dangerous endeavor.

Oh, what was she thinking? She should've waited for Dipper. He knew more about helping her through fears. Especially one like heights.

"...HEEELP!" She shrieked, hugging the tree trunk with all her strength. "Waddles, call for help! Get the fire department! Call 911! Get Swat team on the line!" She screamed again as another branch snapped under her foot. "HELP!"

* * *

Ford rubbed the bridge of his nose as he entered the living room, making a beeline to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. He felt utterly drained, having been slaving over some stubborn research downstairs in the lab. He didn't know how long he'd been down there, but he had gone down around sunrise and now the sun was high in the sky.

He knew Stan had left the house for groceries, and...he had taken Dipper, he believed. That was going to make the day rather lonely. With a mug of coffee in hand, he headed back into the foyer. "Mabel? Are you here?"

The bubbly little girl didn't answer his calls, and Ford leisurely took a sip of coffee as he walked to the end of the stairs. "Mabel?"

There was still silence, and he vaguely wondered if she had fallen asleep. After a minute, he realized the pig was gone too.

Then he noticed the note taped to the front door, stuck to the very top to match his eye level. He smiled, plucking it off and looking it over as he took another drink of coffee. So the girl twin had decided to venture outside to cure boredom. He wasn't sure where, but he figured she was with one of those friends she was always bringing over.

He stuffed the note in his pocket, opening the door and heading outside for the mail. A job he probably couldn't count on Stan for, since the man claimed he was allergic to bills.

The temperature was moderate and tolerable as Ford stepped onto the porch, walking down the steps and onto the walkway. He approached the rickety mailbox and grabbed a stack of envelopes, silently wondering what the damage would be this time. Stan had made a new attraction that was constructed entirely of lights before it blew out the day before, and that had to have taken a hit to the electricity bill.

Before Ford could head back to the house, he heard a shrill sound coming from within the forest. He instantly froze, barely turning his head and waiting. There it was again.

He couldn't place what it was, or if it came from a creature he had studied. The opportunity made him feel giddy and curious. Maybe he could investigate, if there were no bills to ponder over. There was still the chance he'd just be stumbling upon something he'd researched already, and waste a trip to the woods.

But before he could return to the house, the call came clear to his ears.

"-Ford! Heeeelp!"

In an instant, the mug and mail hit the floor, and Ford took off into the forest.

* * *

"Grunkle Ford! Grunkle Stan! Wendy! Someone! HEEELP!"

Mabel clung to the tree for dear life, beginning to shiver in fear of the branches breaking underneath her and sending her to her doom. Waddles squealed underneath her, becoming distressed as his perky owner still didn't return to his side.

"Waddles, Waddles, it's okay, I'm right here!" She insisted, trying to tilt her head to look down, but the motion made something creak next to her and she froze. She didn't want to be up here. She didn't want to be in the woods anymore.

"Dipper! Dipper, help!" She shrieked, shutting her eyes and wishing teleportation were real. She'd even take the creepy gnomes if she didn't have to be up here. "Dipper..."

"Mabel!"

Her eyes snapped open, the deep and gruff voice music to her ears. She perked up a bit, but stopped when a branch underneath her foot snapped slightly. "Great Uncle Ford! Help me, help me, please!"

"Mabel! Mabel, where are you?!" There was a metallic noise, and then a blast of _something_ flew only a few feet away, obliterating a stream of branches and pine needles in a green glow. She kept back a shriek as Ford's panicked yell returned. "Mabel! I swear to god, whoever you are who has my great niece, I will blast you to another goddamn dimension, so help-"

"Grunkle Ford, I'm up here!" She informed rapidly. There was a beat of silence, and then Ford appeared underneath the branches, having recognized Waddles amidst the brush. He seemed to put two and two together before finally raising his head and barely able to see his niece amongst the branches. "Mabel! What are you doing up there?!" He slipped his weapon back into his belt, sounding regretful that he'd shot it.

"I climbed up here," she replied sheepishly, before hugging herself closer to the tree. "Grunkle Ford, I can't get down."

"It's alright, Mabel, you won't get hurt," Ford assured pensively, before raising his head again. "Are the branches too brittle beneath you?"

"I...I'm scared of heights," Mabel confessed. When Ford didn't respond, she rapidly added "I didn't think I'd get this high! I was gonna use my grappling hook, but it fell, and Waddles didn't catch it."

Ford glanced down at his feet, catching sight of the weapon, and he rubbed his chin in thought. "Are you hurt at all?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Well, so long as you aren't kidnapped or being tortured, this can be handled easily."

Mabel smiled, feeling beyond relieved that someone could finally help her. She shifted a bit, and the branch under her foot cracked completely. She quickly hopped it up to another branch, stretching her leg farther. "Hurry!" She demanded, exertion and panic in her voice.

Ford looked around for a second, seeming to weigh his options, before heaving a sigh and launching himself upwards. He grabbed onto the lowest branch and carefully pulled himself upward.

"Great Uncle Ford..." Mabel asked shakily, peering down and barely able to catch the sight of her uncle's graying hair. "Are you sure that's going to hold you?"

Ford grunted, pulling himself higher and supporting the most of his weight against the trunk. He had climbed quite a number of trees within the years of his research, and learned the hard way that pine trees were terrible climbing trees. But it was beyond better that he fell than Mabel. At least he knew how to land to where he'd get the least damage. "Better I fall than you, Mabel."

"But you'll get hurt!" Mabel cried out, sounding genuinely concerned. "Grunkle Ford, you're gonna break an old man bone or something!"

"Better than you breaking every bone in your body from this height!" He bit back, raising himself a little higher. "It's okay, I've climbed these trees before. It's all about holding onto the base."

"You shouldn't do this. You should call firemen or something! People with ladders!" She tried, but Ford ignored her, getting closer to her and focusing most on his feet holds. "Alright...Mabel, you're going to need to leap down to me. I can't move any further. Those branches won't withstand my weight."

Mabel stared, seeming to consider. She gripped the branches tighter, lifting her foot a little, before bringing it back down. After a moment of hesitation, she ducked her head as if in shame. "I...I'm scared."

Ford studied her small quivering form barely balancing on the branches, memories of Stanley doing the same thing when they were kids flooding back to him. Stan had never liked admitting his fear of heights to anybody, and really, Ford had only ever known due to observation.

Stan had been stuck in a tree once when they were ten. Not only had the act not been permitted, but Stan was stuck and scared to death. It took stealing the school ladder and a lot of coaxing to bring his twin down that night.

"It'll be alright," he assured her, keeping his voice calm and steady despite the pounding of his heart against his chest. "C'mon. Even if we do fall, well, I'll take the brunt of the hit."

"No!" Mabel crowed, shaking her head and looking at him with a horrified expression. "I don't want you to get hurt! Grunkle Stan would be sad if I let you get hurt!"

"And both him and Dipper would be sad if I let you get hurt!" Ford retaliated, giving her a comforting smile. "But you can do this, Mabel. Jump down. And...we can keep this our own little secret."

"Really?" Mabel perked up, sounding surprised. "Just you and me?"

"You, me, and the pig," Ford corrected, thinking of the squeals coming from under him.

"Don't snitch, Waddles!" Mabel yelled out before positioning herself. "Okay. I...I'm gonna go down."

Ford braced himself, leaning most of his weight against the trunk and steeling himself for his great niece's weight. There was a beat of hesitation, before Mabel took a breath and let go of the branches.

Ford caught her swiftly, holding her tightly to his chest like she was an incredibly fragile object, and he slipped down the tree as fast as he could. He lost his grip a little ways down, and wrapped his arms around her. He landed sorely on his feet, before losing balance and landing on his rear with a yelp.

"...that's gonna hurt in the morning," he muttered, and Mabel giggled a bit before pulling back from him and dropping into his lap. "Are you alright, Grunkle Ford?"

"I'll live." He responded wearily, as Waddles moved forward and plopped himself into Mabel's own lap. The girl hugged her pig, smiling and looking incredibly relieved. "Thank you, Grunkle Ford."

"It's no problem. Just...please leave the height problems to me," he reminded, picking up the grappling hook and handing it to his great niece before lifting himself to his feet. She wrapped her arms around his own, helping him up a bit as he steadied himself.

With a gentle smile, he ruffled her hair, and felt unusually proud when she beamed at him. It was a mixture of gratefulness, relief, and love he hadn't manage to catch from her until now.

He scooped her up in a fluid motion, hearing her giggle with joy, before carefully walking over the logs and brush in his path, the pig snuffling and following close behind.


	2. Hit and Run

"Yeeesh, kid...your clumsiness is gonna be the death of you one day."

Stan leaned against the open door of his beloved Stanley Mobile, the ol' girl strategically parked between a couple of trees and a lone dumpster. The summer afternoon was unusually cool, the chokingly thick humidity and heat taking an absence, and thankfully the car's exterior wasn't capable of cooking an egg on the hood.

A pile of groceries, a majority of them...permanently borrowed...sat on one end of the backseat, the items lacking a bag simply sprawled around the floor without much of a second thought. Stan usually took pride in being able to save some money with his shoplifting ways...would've felt even more proud since Dipper had tagged along and actually grabbed a few things successfully too...but he had bigger things to focus on at the moment.

Namely, the sniveling twelve-year-old sitting directly in front of Stan, shivering and going through a world of pain he didn't deserve.

Stan would've never predicted this sort of thing out of grocery day. It had been going smoothly, the store's workers idiots as always, which allowed Stan free reign to slip things into his coat. Dipper had seemed rather excited by the whole event, grasping for Stan's approval, and the kid hadn't done too bad.

It happened when they stepped outside. Stan sent Dipper off towards the Stanley Mobile and turned his back for a mere second to leave behind the cart...might as well look like a good citizen when you're stealing secretly...when some moron decided to disregard the speed limit. Dipper barely managed to avoid crashing into the guy's windshield, instead losing balance when he jumped out of the way, and hit the pavement hard.

Dipper's cries were what made Stan move faster than he probably ever had since his last heist. And now that stranger's car had a dented hood and probably a shattered window somewhere, courtesy of Stanley Pines.

The ex-conman wasn't going to stick around to press charges or anything drastic, given the fact he was holding stolen items in his coat, and he had instead snatched a shocked and clingy Dipper up before retreating to the car for medical care.

It had taken a bit of effort to get Dipper off and sitting in the backseat, but Stan somehow had accomplished it. The kid now sat with his legs hanging out of the side of the car to avoid staining the interior with blood. His white socks were now stained red, his knees scraped and cut like they'd been through so much more than a date with the pavement. His dirtied cap sat on the car floor, and he was busy trying to hastily wipe away tears.

"Clumsiness," Stan reiterated, despite the fact he knew the whole thing wasn't Dipper's fault in the slightest. His great nephew sniffed in response, scrubbing at his eyes.

With a sigh, Stan set down the first aid kit and glanced at the blood still dripping from the kid's knees. Dipper didn't seem to really acknowledge it all, instead trying to straighten up and stop the tears that inevitably came with the shock of almost getting run over. Stan couldn't blame the kid. He was going to have a premature heart attack soon if these kids weren't more careful.

"Stay here," the businessman gruffly ordered, and he quickly headed towards the back of the vehicle and popped the trunk. The small space was filled with junk Stan hadn't sorted through for a while, and wasn't really planning on it anytime soon either. There were a couple things required for heists, shoplifted knick knacks, and a few necessities shoved in the corner just for the situation he'd ever need to leave the Shack with just the clothes on his back. He pulled a towel from the pile before slamming the trunk closed and approaching his great nephew.

The kid's watery brown eyes flitted up to his great uncle and he sniffed pitifully. "I didn't see him!" Dipper instantly argued, voice thick with tears, before he hastily cleared his throat. "I...I guess I might've been pretty clumsy."

"Partly." Stan grunted back, crouching down to match the kid's height. His back and knees ached in typical old man fashion, but he couldn't care less in the situation. He had his priorities."Sonuva-...gun should've known what the hell the speed limit is for."

"You don't follow it either," Dipper pointed out weakly, lifting his head a bit and then hissing in pain as Stan applied pressure on the boy twin's left knee, the one currently leaking enough blood to cover a sock.

"That's different," Stan hastily bit back, and Dipper returned the statement with a doubtful stare. Stan brought his gaze back down, frowning as the cloth began to turn red. "I'm careful, 'specially with you kids. And when we're in town, the only thing I don't care 'bout is parkin'. Stop squirmin'."

"It hurts!" Dipper whined out, his voice cracking, and he slapped a hand over his mouth in shame.

"Look, it was either this, or end up as the guy's hood ornament," Stan stated, moving the cloth to Dipper's other knee. The bleeding was slowing considerably, and he felt a bit more relieved in knowing the kid wasn't going to bleed out in front of him. "And frankly, I'm kinda glad all ya got was some nasty road rash."

"You scared him," Dipper commented, sounding more humored than anything, in an attempt to steer the subject to something that could distract him from the pain. "I didn't know you were capable of throwing a whole cart that far, Grunkle Stan."

"Adrenaline makes ya do crazy things, kid," Stan replied evenly, switching wounds again. Truthfully, it was more anger than adrenaline that incited his actions, but he wouldn't admit to that. "Alright...so, seems you're finally done bleedin' out on me. How're you feelin'?"

"Bad," Dipper croaked out, and he tentatively held out his arms, palms scraped and skin covered in dirt. "I think I scraped my elbows. They're not bleeding, but it still hurts. And I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be bruised tomorrow. I landed hard on my stomach..."

"You landed hard everywhere. There's bound to be bruises." Stan gripped the kid's arms, inspecting the newfound wounds. Just a few scrapes that didn't really even need a bandage. Boy, he had dodged a bullet there.

He moved back to grab the first aid kit, zipping it open and withdrawing a handful of bandages. "Scale of one to ten on your knees, kiddo?"

"Eleven." Dipper closed his eyes and rested his head against the seat. Despite the weather being manageably cool outside, the sun was still heating the interior of the car, creating a drowsy warmth that was beginning to make the twelve-year-old sleepy, despite the throbbing pain in his legs.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me. I still gotta play doctor here, and I'm still gonna need responses from you," Stan ordered gruffly, snapping his fingers close to Dipper's ear, and he managed to rouse the kid enough for him to lift his head. Stan studied the contents of the first aid kit for a second before pulling out a couple of disinfectant wipes. "Alright, squirt. This is probably gonna hurt, so brace yourself."

"Hmm?" Dipper's eyes opened in time to see Stan tear open a package and hold up the disinfectant wipe, waving it a bit to catch the kid's attention. "W-wait, no, no it's alright!" Dipper attempted to yank his leg away, much to his Grunkle's surprise. "I'm fine with just bandages, really!" The boy twin was familiar with the pain those things brought, and he was already struggling with what he had. He didn't want to be a wimp, not in front of Stan.

Instead of obliging, Stan instead shook his head, merely reaching over and snatching Dipper's leg in an iron grip. "Kid, do ya wanna deal with havin' an infection or somethin'? It won't be fun for you, for me, or for Mabel. Hell, Mabel will kill me if I let that happen." Stan tightened his grip as Dipper put on a stubborn expression, the dreaded disinfectant hovering over the wound. "You'll be fine, alright? Count t' ten or somethin'."

"N-no! It already really hurts, Grunkle Stan! Maybe I can, I dunno, use ice...?" Dipper half-heartedly begged. Stan scoffed, but instead swiped at the wound anyway. "Kid, it's gonna hurt. That's what healin' is."

"Ow, ow, _OW!_ " Dipper jolted, twisting his leg in a vain attempt to free it, wishing he could crawl off to the safety of the other side of the seat. The stinging sensation quickly escalated to a burning sensation, and he felt tears begin to gather in his eyes. He didn't want to cry again in front of Stan, the first time had been enough. "Ow, ow, Grunkle Stan, stop, I can...I can just use ice! Ow..."

Stan ignored the kid's pleading, yet that didn't mean his heart was being torn by the words. Inflicting pain on the niblings was a guarantee for hell. He felt a little grateful he hadn't gotten Mabel in this position. That would've included a lot of screaming from the girl twin's end.

Once the blood was cleaned off and Stan was decently satisfied with the job, he grabbed the nearest bandage and ripped it open, firmly setting it over the twelve-year-old's knee. That was one down. Now there was just another to go.

Dipper was sniffling, drawing in deep breaths in an attempt to regain composure, and Stan practically upturned the first aid kit to find another disinfectant wipe. He still kept a strong hold on the kid's leg, and ripped the package open with his teeth to keep the grip. Dipper was the more slippery one in the pair of niblings, and he didn't want to be chasing after the kid around the parking lot. "You're doin' fine, kid. Really."

"Grunkle S-Stan, I don't want it!" Dipper cried out, suddenly reverting to a five-year-old's method of pleading. Stan lifted his gaze before simply shrugging with fake indifference. When Dipper didn't get the reaction he wanted, he swatted a hand out, knocking off Stan's fez in one fluid motion.

Stan heaved a sigh, muttering something about the kid needing a nap, before setting to work cleaning the second wound. Dipper reacted instantly with a surprised wail, kicking out ineffectively and stuttering out demands.

"G-Grunkle Stan, stop it, I d-don't need some stupid-ow, OW, Grunkle Stan! Staaan! Please!"

Stan ignored his great nephew's pleas, more to just get the whole ordeal over with, and he didn't look up until he finally applied the last bandage.

Dipper tore himself away the second he could, drawing his knees to his chest and trying to wipe the tears sliding down his cheeks. He sniffled, his desperation soon dwindling to embarrassment and he looked down at his Grunkle's handiwork. The blood had thankfully stopped, and the stinging began to abate.

"You alright, kid?" Stan asked, scooping up his fez from the floor and studying the kid. Dipper didn't respond for a second, still staring at his knees before shifting his gaze to the floor.

"...you think I'm a baby, don't you?"

Stan visibly jumped, taken aback by the question, before he straightened himself up again. "Squirt, are you serious?"

Silently, Dipper nodded, lingering tears on the brim of his eyelashes before he swiped them away with his arm. "Seriously. I was scared of some stupid disinfectant."

Stan set his jaw, thinking for a second before reaching out and lifting the boy's chin until Dipper finally met his eyes. Watery puppy dog eyes met old hardened ones, and finally the businessman released a tired sigh. "...no, Dipper, you're not a baby. Ya do realize you almost got hit by a car, right? I think you're justified in sheddin' tears."

Dipper didn't look very convinced, blinking slowly. "But...I'm a wimp. That fall was nothing, but...I panicked. I cried and then I hit you and..."

"I...will let that slide this one time," Stan stated firmly, holding up a finger to emphasize his point. "Kid, you're not a wimp, alright? Get that fact outta your thick skull. I'm actually surprised ya weren't screamin' your lungs out at the sight of all that blood. I'm...proud of ya. Marchin' through the pain. Like a real Pines." He placed his fez over Dipper's unruly brown hair, and his great nephew shot a shaky smile in his direction.

"...thanks, Grunkle Stan."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Stan withdrew a shoplifted Pitt Cola from his pocket, cracking it open as he eyed the kid. "I hope you've learned somethin' from this whole mess."

"Look both ways before crossing the street?" Dipper suggested, and then sat up expectantly. "Can I ride shotgun?"

"...really, kid?"

"Please!" The kid smiled excitedly, bright eyes shimmering underneath the overly large fez.

"...fine. Don't tell your sister, or she'll never let me hear the end of it," Stan conceded. "Can ya walk? ...ya know what, nevermind, I don't wanna chance ya knockin' a tooth out or somethin'." Stan lifted Dipper with one arm, balancing the kid on his hip as he kicked the door shut. Good thing the boy was light for his age.

"Can we get ice cream?" Dipper chirped, swinging his feet a little, pain seemingly forgotten as Stan opened the passenger door.

"How about we go and just burn my wallet? Seems like that's what you're tryin' to aim for," Stan scoffed, setting the kid into the seat and buckling him in. Dipper shifted, smiling broadly and feeling important as Stan rounded the car and slipped into the driver's seat.

The car pulled out of the parking space, heading down the road in a matter of seconds, Stan checking the mirror for cops and sipping his soda.

Dipper stared wide-eyed at the scenery flying by, loving the new view, and he was very much able to see the car take a different turn, one that didn't lead to the Shack. "...Grunkle Stan, where are we going?"

"What's it look like, knucklehead?" Stan muttered, not taking his eyes off the road. "We're gettin' ice cream."

Dipper's smile couldn't get any bigger. "Grunkle Stan, you're the best Grunkle in the world."

"Mm-Hm." Stan nodded, swallowing more soda. "Do me a favor and say that in front of Ford next time, alright?"


	3. High Speed Chase

A/N: Another Ford and Mabel interaction because we need more of these, goddamnit.

* * *

"...and then I ate a whole bunch of glitter! But I got sick after that though, and now Dipper hides the glitter bottles..."

Ford drummed his fingers against the steering wheel of the Stanley Mobile, drops of rain splattering against the windshield and providing a secondary ambience beside Mabel's rambling. The young girl sat contentedly in the backseat, knitting what must be her millionth sweater, swinging her legs in unrestrained excitement. There was no use for a radio, as she instead opted to verbally relay stories and experiences to her great uncle, as well as a few things he had missed out on throughout the summer. Ford didn't mind it. Even though he had never admitted it aloud, he enjoyed Mabel's company.

Stan had closed and left the Shack for unspecified reasons, but the businessman had been muttering about something concerning a new attraction. Dipper had decided to choose going with him, the kid still having difficulty walking, and Stan's scenario appealed much more. The two had taken the bus, probably for Stan to avoid license plate tracking or something or other, and Ford was left with Mabel by his side. After a quick check in inventory within his lab, he realized he lacked supplies himself, and to the mall they went.

Ford pulled into the parking lot, searching for a decent spot as Mabel told a tale of being shrunken down and getting to eat a gummy koala the size of herself. Finally Ford found a sufficient space and he brought the car to a stop, the windshield wipers giving one last swipe before falling still. He stuffed the keys in his pocket as Mabel set aside her knitting.

"Alright, here we are," Ford announced, opening the door and then instantly shrinking back. Besides the relentless downpour, a strong chilly wind accompanied it, and Ford scrambled to hold his coat together with a single hand. The storm was practically an anomaly itself, a random wall of clouds looming over the town.

It was a nice change from the typical warm weather, but he hadn't planned on being this cold for at least two more months.

"Ohh, it's co-o-old," Mabel commented behind him, pushing herself against her seat as a gust entered the car. She drew her hands into her sweater, letting the sleeves flop to her side. "Why did the sun decide to be stupid and hide now?!"

Ford glanced back at her, then back towards the mall, a decision forming in his mind. It'd save him some time and effort, he figured, and he quickly slammed the door shut. Mabel looked in his direction with a sense of bemusement, worrying he had changed his mind. "Grunkle Ford?"

"Okay, here's what I'm thinking," Ford began, twisting around in his seat to face the confused twelve-year-old. "I only need a few things from inside. It's going to be wet and cold and...slow in there, so...would you rather stay in the warmth of the car instead?"

Mabel's eyes lit up at the sudden offer, the young girl more used to being dragged around by Stan when it came to boring errands. "Welll..." She grinned widely, slapping her oversized sleeves to the side of her face. "Okay! I can catch up on my knitting here."

"Excellent." Ford breathed a sigh of relief, returning her exuberant smile with one of gratefulness. The trip would go much more quicker this way without a kid to be looking after. He held out a hand, keys dangling from his fingers. "Here are the keys. If it gets really cold, feel free to turn on the heater, but only until the temperature is manageable. Stan will probably be making me pay back the gas we used."

Mabel nodded in affirmation, accepting the keys and tucking them beside her. She then picked up her knitting again, falling back into her work and humming now that she couldn't tell stories. Ford trusted his great niece, and opened the door, moving out of the car as fast as possible and letting the door slam shut behind him with the force of the wind. Mabel was an intelligent girl...he knew she'd be alright.

He hurried to the entrance of the shopping mall, bracing against the cold and clasping the top of his coat in an attempt to retain some heat. He bumped shoulders with a broad man wearing all black as he passed through the doors, but made no move to apologize and instead headed straight for the shop he sought after.

* * *

Mabel hummed contentedly, growing pleased as her sweater slowly formed into something wearable, the blue and white pattern becoming apparent. The sweater was going to be a gift for Dipper, she had decided, during the start of the car ride. Her twin was in dire need of some clean clothes, since his preteen laziness and that stupid injury he received a week prior interfered with the chore of laundry.

She became too invested in her work to notice the two men approaching the car at rapid speed, donning black clothing and slipping on masks to conceal their faces. They both peered into the windows, catching sight of her, and eventually deeming her harmless and moving forward.

Mabel jumped in surprise, refraining from shrieking as the doors swung open, a black bag being tossed to the seat next to her, and a cold gust of wind making her curl up on reflex. She dropped her knitting, staring in shock as two men intruded into her Grunkle's car. The bigger of the pair slid into the driver's seat, and the smaller one rounded on her, fierce emotion in his eyes. Mabel could tell this was probably his first rodeo, and she could barely see the hint of nervousness he tried to hide.

Before she could protest against their unwelcome entrance, a gun appeared inches from her face, the barrel right in her line of sight. Any words she had died on her tongue, as her eyes widened at the deadly weapon being pointed directly at her.

"...Grunkle Ford!" She squeaked, pushing herself against the seat to give some distance.

"You have the keys, little girl?" The younger man growled out, waving the gun a bit in a threatening motion. "C'mon, hand 'em over."

"You shouldn't be doing this!" Mabel scolded weakly, but she reluctantly swiped the keys from their spot beside her. Dipper had preached to her before about the adversity of facing robbers, and that the golden rule was to just give them what they wanted. She dropped them in the guy's hand, curling up into a ball as the car immediately started up, much to her dismay. "W-wait! You're taking me?!"

"C'mon, move it, let's go!" The man barked out to his partner, not bothering to answer Mabel's question verbally. His partner wasted no time and stomped on the gas, shooting forward as the guy continued to keep the gun trained on the shaking twelve-year-old in the backseat.

Mabel sat still, not daring to move an inch as the car sped out of the parking zone, nearly hitting a tree, and sending a lone cart flying off to the side. She tried to conceal her panic, knowing it wouldn't help her in this situation, but she still couldn't help worrying what her fate would be.

She eyed the trash bag beside her, catching sight of items with bright white, and still attached, price tags. Thieves they were then. And they were using her Grunkle's car as their getaway vehicle.

Numbly, she silently retreated to Sweatertown. There was no use in fighting, not with a gun pointed at her, and she'd just have to hope they'd drop the car in the ditch somewhere and leave her be. Surely, she was just an unwanted bonus, an obstacle even.

"Dipper..." She murmured, wishing her twin was there for the comfort as the car bumped along down the road.

* * *

"What do you mean the card is maxed out? Surely it can't be so soon?!" Ford argued, very displeased by the turn of events as he slammed a hand on the counter.

"I, uh, I apologize, sir. There's nothing I can do," the cashier regretfully replied, glancing at Ford's fingers with interest as he returned the card to the author. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, quite alright. I'll purchase these some other time," Ford conceded, waving his hand at the items on the belt. The cashier nodded in understanding, deftly swiping the items away in preparation for the next customer. Ford turned and stormed out of the shop, holding the card in his fist and resisting the urge to tear the damn thing in half. "Goddammit, Stanley..."

With no other choice, Ford headed back outside, ducking his head against the icy rain as he shoved the useless piece of plastic in his pocket. It wasn't too big of a deal, he figured. He'd just grab some cash from the Shack and return to pay with that. Mabel's stories could entertain him enough throughout the ride, and maybe if he promised her candy or something, she wouldn't mind the double trip.

He heaved a weary sigh, stepping off the curb and heading to where the Stanley Mobile was parked, waiting patiently. The engine suddenly started up, and he lifted his head curiously, expecting to see Mabel turning on the heat.

Instead of the young girl, however, he saw an unfamiliar man in all black, messing with something on the dash. Ford froze, glancing around to ensure he had the right car, but a look towards the license proved it was indeed his brother's car.

Before he could react, the car pulled out from its spot, instantly speeding out of the lot and nearly ramming into a tree in its haste.

"Oh, no..." He groaned, knowing Stanley would be absolutely livid at having his car stolen under Ford's watch. Quite literally.

Then his heart skipped a beat and he jolted upright, eyes widening as he felt like the world had just fell apart under his feet. "MABEL!"

He frantically searched the lot, hoping the girl had just been deposited on the road, but there was no sign of her. Which meant she was still in the car, being kept as a hostage, off to god knew where as the thieves attempted to be out of radar.

" _Mabel!_ Mabel, no!" Ford cried, watching helplessly as the car headed onto the main streets. Police would take far too long. He needed to act, to save his great niece before the thieves tried hurting her. If they even had any interest in her, but he didn't want to dwell on it.

He caught sight of a lone motorcycle parked a few feet away. He barely took any time to weigh his options, running after the car would just be useless. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

He approached it, instantly mounting it and frowning a bit in discomfort. It had been a while since he had ridden a bike, hell, even just one that wasn't motorized, but this was his only option under the circumstances.

"You better work or so help me..." Ford jammed a hand into his pocket, digging out a small device and pressing the button before shoving it against the ignition. To his delight, the item morphed and twisted, forming the correct key and fitting into the slot effortlessly.

"Tell me my creation is useless now, Stanley!" Ford laughed triumphantly as the motorcycle started up. He revved the engine, gripping the handlebars as his heart pounded against his chest.

"HEY! Get off by bike, man!" A voice crowed behind him.

Right. Now wasn't the time to be proud over his invention. Ford didn't waste the time in looking back, shooting out of the parking lot and letting to bike's engine tune out the angry shouting behind him. The irony, he wondered, that he'd need to steal a vehicle to pursue his own stolen vehicle.

...perhaps he wasn't as different from Stan as he thought. This was going to make an interesting story to tell.

Ford pressed further on the gas, trench coat whipping behind him as he rode out onto the streets. The cherry red exterior of Stan's car was evident even through the downpour, and he followed it with intense focus, eyes flashing with determination and his jaw set in repressed rage.

Stealing the car itself was a terrible thing already, but adding Mabel to the equation made Ford convince himself he'd use his gun if it came to it.

The car left the main streets, breaking off into the ones that led out through the woods, and Ford picked up speed. It wasn't long before he was right behind the car, visible through their rear view mirrors.

Of course, that turned out to be misfortunate.

Within the car, the driver cursed at the sight of their pursuer. "Mike, some guy's hot on our tail!"

"You've gotta be kidding me..." The gun-wielding man scowled, pointing the gun away from Mabel. She poked her head out of her sweater in curiosity, before sitting up at the mention on someone following. She glanced behind her, before smiling widely at the sight of her Grunkle following on motorcycle. "Grunkle Ford! Cool bike!"

Her smile instantly fell as the man lowered the window, leaning out of the car and pointing the gun towards her rescuer. "Slow it down, man! I won't shoot if you ease off!"

"First off, this is my car!" Ford spat back above the wind. "Second, you've got my great niece! Stop the goddamn vehicle or I'll be shooting _you!"_

"Gun it!" The man snapped, and Mabel shrieked as the car picked up speed. They took a tight turn, tires skidding dangerously underneath them, and Ford visibly struggled as he followed immediately after.

Mabel screamed on reflex as a gunshot rang out, and she whipped around to check on her great uncle. Ford was undeterred, seeming to have managed to dodge the bullet, but he was looking more and more unsteady with managing the bike. With her Grunkle's safety in mind, Mabel reached around and gripped one of her knitting needles before undoing her seatbelt and propelling herself forward. "Leave my great uncle alone!"

The thief screeched in terror as Mabel stabbed his shoulder, scaring him enough to drop the gun out the window. Ford swerved a bit to avoid it as it clattered down the road, before flipping back his coat and reaching for his own weapon.

"This wasn't how I wanted to spend my Sunday!" He snapped, before pointing it at his target. "Mabel, hold on, now!"

Mabel scrambled to comply, buckling herself in as Ford shot at an approaching tree. There was a loud snap, before it came crashing down in front of the thieves' path.

Mabel braced herself as the men screamed, struggling to stop the car, but the wet road didn't allow it. The tree slammed down strategically, landing right on the hood, and the car jerked before coming to a final stop.

Ford hovered over the brake, before deciding last minute to leap off the bike, allowing it to run off and crash into the trees as he landed on the asphalt. He ignored the now drenched section of his coat as he raced forward and wrenched open the door of the car. He lifted Mabel out, the young girl giggling and burying her face in his wet coat collar. "Grunkle Ford, that was amazing!"

"Ah...thank you, Mabel," The author returned, patting her back and feeling incredibly relieved to have her in his arms. "I...I try. It was for your sake."

"You're my hero!" Mabel announced, lifting her head and shooting him a bright smile. "When we get home, I'm making you a very glittery crown as a reward."

"Looking forward to it," Ford sighed, knowing he had no chance of denying her gift, and he mussed her hair affectionately. "Any injuries?"

"Nope! I had my seatbelt!" Mabel stated proudly. "The bad guys though..."

With her words, the driver stumbled out of the car, looking incredibly dazed and struggling to escape. Ford propped Mabel on his hip, easily walking to the guy and swinging a punch to the back of his head. The thief went down, landing in the mud and staying there.

"...Stanley...is not going to like this," Ford finally voiced quietly, as he eyed the damage to the car and the wreckage of the motorcycle. He shifted his glasses, shaking his head at the dent in the hood. "...at all."

"...call police and then pretend like it never happened?" Mabel suggested, peering up at her great uncle.

"Sounds like a plan," Ford replied back.

It only took a few minutes, and some spare rope from the trunk, before the Stanley Mobile was puttering down the street back towards the Mystery Shack, leaving behind a mangled stolen motorcycle, a trash bag of stolen items, and two thieves tied to a tree in its wake.


	4. Hold Up

A/N: I am never going to give these poor kids a break, am I?

So for this and the next chapter, I'm mixing it up a bit! The niblings are still going to be receiving comfort, but now, they'll be returning that love to their Grunkles. Blunt version: The Stan's ain't coming out unscathed. Whoops.

Also, the intensity of the problems are going to shift wildly, if you haven't noticed. From getting stuck in a tree to flat out kidnapping. It's part of the fun.

* * *

The day couldn't have felt any slower.

Dipper idly swept his broom in the corner of the gift shop, moving it across the exact same spot over and over again. He didn't have the interest to put effort into actually cleaning, and Stan didn't typically care about work quality with the twins anyway.

The day was going normally, as Stan led his tours and leeched money out of customers like routine. Soos was wandering about the property, doing odd jobs and cleaning up the occasional soda spill.

The only thing not normal about the day, was the fact Dipper Pines, curious twelve-year-old, was bored out of his mind.

Mabel wasn't by his side to fully complete the Mystery Twin duo, having opted to sleep over at Candy or Grenda's place...Dipper could never recall which house she picked, but the sleepover always ended with excessive glitter and talk about werewolf novels. Great Uncle Stanford had left to do errands, managing to sneak off with Stan's car, which only amplified the old man's grumpiness to his great nephew. Wendy called in sick, despite the fact she probably wasn't, and Stan was too annoyed by Ford's theft of his vehicle that he didn't ask for details.

Dipper had no chance in exploring the forest, since Stan insisted the kid stay in the Shack until his knees were completely healed. The boy twin felt relatively fine; only mild bandages on his knee, and he was decently mobile. The bruises he'd sustained had long since faded. Really, Dipper felt he was being placed against his will.

"Dumb Grunkle Stan...making me do chores while...while the forest is out there...sweeping this stupid corner..." The boy mumbled under his breath, releasing pent-up anger and restlessness, hearing his uncle's raucous voice from wherever he was, showing off the new attraction they'd picked up the day prior. Something with a sentient plant or other, Dipper hadn't paid much attention just so he wouldn't be involved in case cops ever visited. The idea of exploring the woods was so much more interesting than sweeping a currently empty shop.

Check that, one with a nasty draft. Dipper shivered, glancing out the window towards the puddles and mud from yesterday's storm.

...so maaybe Stan made the right choice in forcing Dipper to stay. A cold in the middle of summer didn't sound fun in the slightest.

Suddenly, a car pulled up, mud flying from the tires as it abruptly braked. Dipper frowned, straightening up a bit and approaching the window more. Random tourists weren't odd, just rare, but he hardly ever saw any as eager as these. He inwardly chalked it up to lost people asking for directions, and headed to the counter to sit down. His knees, admittedly, were sore again.

A person bolted from the car, racing up the door and throwing it open. Dipper pulled his vest closer to himself, feeling a chilly burst of wind sneak inside. The stranger was wearing a dark hood and mask, most of his body covered by clothing. His eyes flitted all over the shop before finally falling on the kid behind the counter.

"Uh...welcome to the Mystery Shack?" Dipper greeted uneasily, a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. Tourists tended to be weird as hell, but he hardly ever caught any seeming to impersonate a ninja. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," the man snapped, and suddenly he withdrew a gun from his belt. Dipper froze, as the weapon was pointed directly towards his face. "Empty your register."

"I..." Dipper looked down at said register, his fingers twitching to comply with the man's demands.

Goddammit, he was being mugged.

Despite the energy it brought, fear also followed, and the boy twin's hand shook as he placed it on the counter, joined by his other one to show lack of weapons, or will to fight. He just had to keep calm...give the person what they wanted...try not to get a bullet in the head.

"...I can't."

The robber evidently didn't like that answer. "Why the hell not?" He looked back outside to the waiting car, anger visible in his expression.

"It doesn't open automatically anymore. It broke the other day," Dipper informed, struggling to keep his voice steady. "My uncle has the key."

"Well, go find him!" A hand reached over the counter and Dipper yelped as he was hauled right over it, feet banging against the wood before he was set back down. The barrel of the gun rested against the small of his back, coupled with a rough nudge. A demand to move and keep going.

Swallowing hard, Dipper forced himself to take steps towards the museum. Stan was in there finishing the last tour, and the crowd would be streaming into the shop soon to buy useless knick knacks and souvenirs. Truthfully, he didn't want to endanger those people, as dumb as they were...

But despite the fact Stan had protocol for tornados, floods, fires, even FBI swarms, there was nothing concerning robbery. Either because Stan had a plan of his own, or a person would have to be rather lame to hike through the woods and mug a tourist attraction of all things.

It was smart due to the isolation, but dumb on so many other levels.

Dipper batted aside the curtains, the man still following, and the gun seeming to point closer to his spine. He shivered a bit, worrying how pulling the trigger could ultimately lead to so many things, and his fear only rose as he frantically searched the museum.

His Grunkle's voice was loud and easy to track, and Dipper quietly stepped into view as Stan gestured to a statue of some kind of bear and moose hybrid.

"It eats fish and has antlers! What more could ya want?!" Stan laughed, and the crowd laughed along with him. The gun was poked against Dipper's back again, and the twelve-year-old cleared his throat. "G-Grunkle Stan?" He called, wishing he didn't sound pitiful.

Stan's happy expression quickly fell before he even looked Dipper's way. The old businessman liked to claim he didn't care about emotions, that he didn't know how to sense if one of the twins was happy or sad or angry or confused, and to just use words like other people. But that was obviously a lie as Stan instantly snapped his head over, and seemed to understand the situation instantly.

"Folks, exit is that way! The Mystery Shack is now closed. No refunds. Out or I'll hose all of you."

There was a conjoined noise of disgruntled murmurings, before the group filed in the direction the eight-ball cane was pointed. Once the room was cleared, Stan strode over in an eerily calm manner.

"Whatcha want?" Stan's tone was indifferent, but a hand found its way into his pocket.

"Money in your register," the robber snarled back, raising the gun to the back of Dipper's head, and the boy couldn't help but yelp in terror. "No questions. Now."

"Sure." Stan shrugged and walked out of the museum, and Dipper whimpered involuntarily. The noise wasn't wanted, apparently, as the gun smacked a bit against his head. The sound rung in his ears, and he wished desperately he'd just be out of harm's way.

Stan led the way into the shop, unusually calm and collected. As if he were making a transaction and scamming money out of tourists again. He clicked a button, and the drawer popped open.

The gun clicked, a noise nearly echoing in the shop, and Dipper slapped a hand over his mouth to keep silent as the robber growled. "Your kid here said that thing was broken. Don't like being lied to."

"Fixed it this mornin'. How's he supposed t' know?" Stan returned, and he held up a huge wad of cash. "Ya want this or not?"

The robber accepted the money, transferring it to his own pocket and Stan held out a hand himself. His fingers moved, a sign that he wanted something in return, and it only took a few seconds for Dipper to realize Stan was signaling for himself.

The robber didn't heed Stan's wishes, still holding Dipper as he headed for the exit. The boy twin squirmed, but immediately stilled as the gun dug farther into his hair.

"...my kid," Stan growled out, his voice low and threatening. "I want my great nephew back."

"This shrimp? I think I could make more use outta him than you have been!" The robber snorted in derision.

"Sure, the kid's a sweaty awkward mess, but like hell I'm lettin' ya take him," Stan continued, rounding the counter and standing close to the side. "It's already stupid for the fact I thought I was gonna have to buy him offa ya, but now I'm sayin' this: give him to me. Now."

"Or else what?" The robber bit back, too pent up to ignore the businessman as they reached the door. "Last I checked, I was the one with the gun."

"Yeesh, I don't appreciate ya callin' a fight with kids on my property." Then Stan's voice steeled, tinged with anger. "'Specially my kids."

And before the robber could react, Stan swung out sharply, his brass knuckles gleaming as his fist slammed against the stranger's head. Dipper felt his uncle's free hand reach around and yank him to the side at the same time, and the gun went off only inches from Dipper's head.

The boy twin's startled scream rang out, as he was thrown back behind the counter. He clambered up to his feet, knees shaking and his breath quickening. "Grunkle Stan!"

Stan was facing the robber, throwing another punch that caught the man across the jaw. Soon, he was swinging wildly, letting out a stream of curses as his fists slammed against the robber. Effective revenge, and Dipper watched in trepidation.

Then there was the gunshot.

It was loud, deafening almost, and startled Dipper enough to make him slip, his foot sliding out underneath him. His chin cracked against the counter as he went down, and pain shot through his cheek as he unintentionally bit into it.

There was another one, then Stan's yell, and Dipper got to his feet in time to see the businessman collapse.

"GRUNKLE STAN! NO!"

The robber scrambled to pick up the money he'd dropped in the scuffle, moving his way to the exit. The copper taste in Dipper's mouth didn't come close to the bad one at the idea of Stan...of Stan being...

But the businessman opened his eyes, waved a hand, indicated he was fine. His right thigh was hit, his pants leg soaking with blood.

Rage hit Dipper first, pushing aside the fear and uncertainty and anxiety that had been there first. He wasn't held at gunpoint now, and despite the blood seeping through his lips and coating his mouth, he felt unusually fearless. This was his chance.

Without even really thinking, Dipper reached down and snatched up the bat that was hidden under the counter. He hopped right over said counter, approaching the robber from behind before moving the bat back.

Then with powerful force he didn't know he possessed, he swung it forward with a resounding CRACK.

The robber immediately went down with a thud, out cold almost instantly. The boy twin didn't have enough strength to break the guy's skull, so that saved gruesome details, but a concussion was imminent.

He slammed the bat down again, a little less stronger, but effective all the same as it hit the robber's leg. Another crack, smaller, but satisfying.

Dipper wiped the blood from his chin, dropping the bat and shaking from exertion. Ow, his cheek...

"Kid, how the HELL did you do that?!"

The boy twin jumped a bit before glancing behind him. "Grunkle Stan!" Dipper dropped to his knees and crawled to his great uncle, assessing the damages. "Oh man, oh man, you're bleeding, oh gosh...gotta, gotta call police or, or something..."

"Kid, if I weren't in so much pain, you'd be getting an affectionate noogie," Stan stated, hiding the pain well from his voice. "You've got a good swing on ya, kid."

"Well...he hurt you," Dipper stated matter-of-factly, like it explained enough. And technically, it did. "...Grunkle Stan, you're bleeding a lot."

"S' fine. Had worse." Stan's teeth were clenched, and he raised himself up a bit, hissing at the wound in his leg. "...still hurts like a sonuva...gun, though...wow, that pun was painfully unintentional." He shifted his weight a bit, and then settled a single hand on Dipper's shoulder, the movement and contact oddly comforting and able to stall Dipper's trembles. "...m'proud of you, kid."

"Thanks, Grunkle Stan." Dipper finally smiled back, glancing at the window again. The mysterious car was gone, and suddenly replaced by a more familiar one.

Too late to react, he watched helplessly as the door swung open to reveal a trench-coated figure.

Ford stood in the doorway, his mouth half open and unable to begin whatever he had been planning to say. He took in the setting, before his eyes fell on Dipper.

"...what in the _multiverse_ happened here?!"


	5. Stomach Flu

A/N: This one turned out longer than I thought it would, hah. More Ford and Mabel bonding! Just what the world needs.

I might switch it up in the upcoming chapters, as in Ford and Dipper, and Stan and Mabel, because they deserve bonding too.

* * *

It wasn't usual for Mabel to have nightmares...that was more of Dipper's department, with mutters and whines concerning a certain yellow dream demon and becoming a puppet. Bill wasn't a problem to worry about anymore, having been dealt with pretty swiftly by Grunkle Ford's hands, but the demon had left his mark. So much, in fact, that Mabel found herself trapped in a nightmare on one particular night.

It had been a blur, but all she remembered was her family and friends burning in blue flames. She woke with a desperate gasp, like a drowning person breaking the surface of water, and she clutched at her bed sheets. Rain pattered against the window, a mantra of tap-tap-tap resonating in the attic.

Panting, the young girl laid where she was, staring up at the rafters as her heartbeat thudded in her ears and her whole body felt paralyzed by fear. Gradually, it receded, and she moved her arms up, lifting her hands into view.

She wasn't being burned alive or tortured. Her arms and hands were blissfully intact.

"Just a nightmare," the girl twin sighed in relief, and she felt movement beneath her feet. Glancing down, she caught sight of Waddles rolling over in his sleep, snuffling a bit before sinking into the covers.

She turned her head to the next bed over. Dipper was peacefully asleep for once, his head lolled to one side and his mouth half open. An open book was in his hands, one of the journals Mabel could barely tell through the slight moonlight that filtered through the window, and it was close to completely slipping off the bed.

"What time is it..." The girl twin lifted herself up, swinging her legs over the bed and rubbing an eye. If she could take a guess, she'd say it was two or three in the morning. The rain however, gave difficulty since sun wasn't apparent.

Going back to sleep would've been the easier option, but Mabel could feel the tremors still running through her. Sinking back into the covers would be too soon at the moment. Water, she'd just go and get a drink of water before heading back to bed. It was a simple request that wouldn't annoy Grunkle Stan if he caught her, and it didn't take a whole lot of effort to achieve. Plus, she was feeling pretty thirsty.

Yes, a drink of water would be a suitable distraction. Then she could go back to dreaming about rainbows and cotton candy and unicorns...or perhaps maybe just punching said unicorns. Yeah, that sounded better.

Carefully, she slid off the bed, and snuck her way to the door, wary enough to avoid waking her brother. Dipper needed all the sleep he could get.

She turned the knob with ease, slipping through the door like a shot and going down the steps in socked feet. Her nightgown swished along her legs, and she shivered upon realizing it was unusually cold downstairs. Grunkle Stan didn't believe in the heater, resulting in a freezing cold room, and she rubbed her arms as she went down the last steps.

To her surprise, the kitchen light was on.

Clutching the banister, Mabel peered in, searching for her Grunkle Stan, but not seeing a soul. She descended from the last stair, checking the living room. Also empty.

"That's weird..." She spoke aloud, placing a finger on her chin in thought. Stan was a stickler for saving electricity. Somebody had to be down here for these lights to still be on.

But also, Stan was an old man. Weren't old men forgetful a lot or something?

The young girl padded into the kitchen, making her way to the table. On the wooden surface was a half-full glass of water, and she raised an eyebrow at the random object. Her eyes flitted downwards, and she saw one of the journals lying on a chair, almost thrown haphazardly on it like a last-minute decision.

"Okay, really weird." Mabel reached over and lifted it up, smoothing out the pages and closing it correctly before setting it on the table. So somebody had beat her to a glass-of-water mission, but the journal was odd. Dipper was the only candidate for that, and she knew he was asleep. Stan didn't like carrying the journals or even flipping through them unless he was begrudgingly forced. Which left...the only other Grunkle in the house.

Curiously, Mabel wandered back out into the foyer, now fully wide awake as she searched for the adult. Surely he was around here. She hoped he wasn't in trouble.

She barely caught a faint noise down the hall across from her. She couldn't place what it could be, but her suspicions rose as she quietly headed towards it.

It was eerily dark, as she headed down the hallway, floorboards creaking under her feet. The lingering terror from her nightmare was beginning to creep back, and now she felt determined to find her Grunkle. At least even one of her Grunkles. Just to feel that momentary safeness the two of them managed to supply. They wouldn't let Bill even touch a finger on her if he was even alive.

"Unless he still is..." Mabel muttered, her uncertainty fueled by the scary shadows and shapes surrounding her. She hastily kept moving, finding a few doors closed before she reached one that was slightly ajar.

A beam of bright white light peeked through the crack in the door, and the noise became clear as the rain lessened, the thumping against the roof slowing down to a much more manageable level.

This was the bathroom, she recalled, and despite the fact she felt a bit intrusive doing so, she moved forward.

There was the noise of helpless coughing, and it definitely belonged to Ford. Suddenly, her hand reached out and pushed the door open, her small form framed in the doorway.

She found her Grunkle bent over the toilet, his head hanging miserably and his shoulders shook with each cough. His coat was discarded behind him, and the distinct smell of vomit was apparent.

"Grunkle Ford!" Mabel called, and he instantly jerked upwards, reaching to his belt for a weapon that wasn't there. His head swiveled to her direction, a face pale and sickly, before he hastily reached his free hand up to adjust his glasses, as if he hadn't been planning on attacking her like she was a threat. "Mabel. Why are you up?"

"Why are you up?" Mabel shot back, ignoring the fact she forgot the routine of announcing her presence patiently. Stan had stressed it enough. She blamed the rain and nightmare for forgetfulness. "Great Uncle Ford, are you sick?"

Ford's grim look instantly switched to a sheepish one, and he quickly shook his head. "I'm alright, Mabel. You need to head back to bed. "

"I don't...want to," Mabel returned, and she stepped further into the bathroom. "I had a nightmare."

"Were you looking for Stan?" Ford's voice grew unusually weak, and he turned back to the toilet. "He's in his room."

"I was getting water. But you left the light on in the kitchen. Stan hates it when you leave the light on, Great Uncle Ford," Mabel scolded, and she carefully approached the older man. "But I didn't know you weren't feeling well. Should I get Grunkle Stan?"

"NO!" Ford just about yelled, before he cleared his throat and shakily straightened himself. "I mean...no. Go back to bed, Mabel. This isn't pretty to look at, I'm sure."

"Great Uncle Ford, I feel it is my duty to tell you I become of nurse status when anyone in the household is sick!" Mabel declared, not moving from her spot. "I have a sweater with the first aid sign on it! I've gotten Dipper through countless colds and stomach flus, I helped Soos when he ate that bad sandwich, and I've been keeping tabs on Stan." She grimaced a bit at the thought of her currently injured uncle, with a bullet wound in his leg and an even crabbier mood at being kept in limited movement. "...but I don't wanna sleep. And I wanna help you. Trust me, I've seen worse. Waaay worse. Carsick Dipper? Not fun."

"Stan will kill me if he finds out I'm keeping you up," Ford stared gruffly, rubbing his head like it hurt. "I'll be alright, Mabel. It's just a...a flu or something, it should pass. I can handle-" he broke off abruptly before diving forward and retching.

The girl twin confidently moved forward, reaching a hand out and setting it carefully on her Grunkle's back. His red sweater was unusually warm, and she set her hand between his shoulder blades before rubbing in a comforting motion. "Don't worry, Grunkle Ford. I can help you!"

The adult seemed to want to argue, trying to brush off her hold and tell her to leave, but he only managed to cough and spit some more.

"I'm gonna get you something to drink. You stay right here." Mabel knew her words were mostly falling on deaf ears, but she was determined to give her uncle some type of care.

She quickly left the bathroom, sprinting down the hall and ignoring the creepy shadows and biting cold on her feet. She knew how it was when her or Dipper were sick. The respective twin would be miserable, hunched over a toilet or stuck in bed or just laying on the floor moaning, but the other never failed to be there to supply comfort. That was always how it was, it was always how it would be, and it helped immensely to know someone cared.

Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford weren't on good tabs just yet. Mabel knew that. And with Stan still bedridden and extra grumpy, who would be there for the other sick twin? Who would make sure he was hydrated, talk to him so he wasn't bored, make sure he didn't do something stupid like go outside while he was sick?

She finally reached the kitchen, and to her surprise, found a pink fat being in the doorway, snuffling curiously.

"Waddles! You're just in time to help me help Great Uncle Ford!" Mabel exclaimed happily, picking up her pig as she slipped into the kitchen. "You can be the nurse now. Call me Dr. Mabel."

The pig snorted in response.

The girl twin studied the cabinets, rubbing her chin as he mused over the contents inside. Grunkle Stan had gone shopping before the robbing fiasco, and the cupboards were full. Thankfully.

"Ginger ale. And crackers," Mabel stated, snapping her fingers as she set Waddles down. She climbed atop the counter, opening up a cupboard and looking through for the right items.

She brought out a container of ginger ale and a box of crackers. She snatched up a mug, one she recognized as Ford's usual coffee mug, and deftly filled it with ginger ale. She tore open the box of crackers, tossing one to Waddles before gathering the food in her arms and heading back down the hall, her pig at her heels.

With her third time running through the halls, the shadows seemed less menacing, and having Waddles beside her helped.

She reached the bathroom just in time to hear the toilet flush. Once she entered, Ford looked at her like he hadn't expected her to return. Even through his sickly pallor, he mustered up a stern look.

"Mabel, I want you to go back to bed, it's too late to..." He trailed off upon seeing the items in her hand. "...what did you bring?"

"Stuff to help you feel better. I told you, Grunkle Ford, I'm experienced!" She stated proudly. "Here, I got you ginger ale and some crackers! Waddles kinda ate some. You're gonna have to share."

Her uncle paled considerably and turned away. "It's fine, Mabel. I'll be alright, you don't need to-"

"Yeeesh, you're just like Dipper!" Mabel complained, and she sat down beside him. "Stubborn and annoying. You're sick, and this stuff helps. You have to eat, or you're just gonna get worse." She rolled her eyes, as if recalling some type of memory. "Trust me, I know." She held out the mug, one Ford recognized as his morning coffee cup, and he reluctantly reached forward, six fingers wrapping around the handle and taking it from the smaller hand.

"...I appreciate it, Mabel. But if that's all, you can-"

"Nuh-uh!" The young girl cried out. "I'm staying with you! Right here."

"You can't do that. It's far too cold for you. And...I doubt you'd want my coat." Ford's eyes flickered to the garment in the corner of the room. "It...was soiled earlier when the first sickness hit."

"Waddles, blanket please!" Mabel ordered, and the pig dutifully walked out, snuffling all the while. She glanced back up, brown eyes shining in the dull light of the bathroom. "Great Uncle Ford, I'm not leaving you alone. No one should have to be alone when they're not feeling good. Plus if you're anything like Dipper, you're going to hold off on eating until you puke again." She held up the box of crackers. "At least one."

Ford sighed, but accepted the cracker. His niece's sternness was beginning to match Stan's, and he felt as if she were replaced by the gruff old man, there'd be no difference. Besides snarkier comments.

"If I may ask...why are you up at this time again? Nightmare?" He looked at her knowingly, and she peered up at him before ducking her head down. Ford wracked his brain for any instances where the child went looking for comfort in a case of a nightmare, but he never recalled that happening. Only once, but that was with his nephew.

"Yeah," Mabel conceded, still looking down at the tiled floor. "It was...it was scary. And I didn't want to fall back asleep and have it again, so I went down for water."

Waddles wandered back into the small room, a blue fleece blanket in tow. Mabel smiled and accepted it, wrapping one end around her. "Thank you, nurse Waddles! You can go on break now."

Ford stared down at his ginger ale, and was successfully startled as Mabel scooted closer and wrapped the other end of the blanket around him. He reached over and held on to it, keeping the fabric over his shaking shoulders. "...what was your nightmare about? Do you care if I ask?"

His niece's small smile dropped, a look of some kind of emotion he couldn't place flashing in her eyes. She slumped over a bit, before finally confessing, "Bill."

"Oh?" Ford put down his mug, the churning in his stomach forgotten. He hesitated for a second, before reaching over and placing an arm around the young girl. She laid against him, her cheek against his sweater.

"He was torturing you." She whispered, and her hand reached forward and clutched at his arm. "Grunkle Stan, Dipper, Soos, Wendy, they were being burned by blue fire and I couldn't help them. Candy and Grenda were there too. They were all screaming, and I couldn't do anything, I was just watching and stuck in some kind of bubble." She was soon on the verge of tears, beginning to tremble. "A-and you...Bill was r-really mad with y-you and then you were...he killed...there was so much blood, I was so scared, I thought..." She bowed her head, and Ford frowned as a tear rolled down her cheek. "I almost thought it was real."

"Bill is dead," Ford stated firmly, and he fully believed it. "At the very least, he's banished from this dimension. He can't bother us again no matter how hard he tries, how many methods he uses, I've made sure of it."

"...really sure?" His niece's voice was small, fragile almost.

"One hundred percent positive." Ford sat up a little straighter, placing his back against the wall and lifting Mabel into his lap. The young girl giggled, looking much happier as she laid her head against him. "I'm done with Bill. Absolutely done with him. And if he were to ever return, you know for a fact Stan and I wouldn't let him near any single one of you."

"Because you love us," Mabel commented, hugging his arm like a personal teddy bear and she shot him a brace-filled smile. "We're great."

"Yes." Ford chuckled, tousling her hair. "The greatest niece and nephew I could ask for." That got a giggle from her, and he felt accomplished as he grabbed his mug and gingerly took a sip.

"Not too fast!" She instantly reminded. "Also I saw you slip that cracker in your pocket. You have to eat, Great Uncle Ford!"

"Alright, alright." Ford set the mug back down, sighing a bit as his headache seemed to lessen. "Thank you, Mabel. I should really hand off one of my medical Ph.D's to you. You're an excellent doctor. ...although I doubt you'd want the one I earned regarding the alien medicine in that dimension..."

Mabel instantly smiled at the compliment, and she snuggled closer to her Grunkle. "...So Bill _is_ gone?"

"Have I ever told you about my studies in this town?" Ford interrupted, wanting to take her mind off the dream demon. Mabel shook her head. "No? Hmm, let's see...how about the first time I met those frustrating unicorns? Have I ever told you that?"

"Nope!" Mabel grinned, burrowing closer and successfully warm and safe within the blanket and her Grunkle's hold. "Let's hear it!..."

* * *

The next morning, Dipper awoke to an empty bed beside him, and Stan woke to no sign of his brother.

"Kid, where's your sister?" Stan voiced as Dipper came down the steps alone and simultaneously asked "Grunkle Stan, where's Great Uncle Ford?"

"Yeesh. They're lost, aren't they?" Stan heaved himself up from his chair, before carefully walking down to the door across the kitchen. "They better not have left the house or so help me-"

Dipper took the lead easily, sternly telling his Grunkle to take it slow with his injured leg, as he peeked into each room he could. "Mabel? Mabel, are you here? Mabel!"

He wandered into the bathroom just by chance, and was startled to find both his great uncle and niece in the corner of the room. Ford was holding the young girl twin to his chest protectively, snoring away as Mabel slept, the two of them covered by a fleece blanket. An empty mug sat beside them, and Waddles was laid on his side with an empty box of crackers beside him.

"Oh, they're in here?" Stan hobbled over and poked his head inside, instantly sighing. "Oi, Poindexter. I said not to trust that tuna."

"I think we oughta leave them," Dipper said as he put two and two together. "If Great Uncle Ford's sick, he needs sleep. And Mabel, just...you need to let her wake up on her own."

"Alright, whatever." Stan waved dismissively at the two before hobbling back down the hall. "I'm makin' pancakes then. Or translation, you're makin' them, cause I'm injured."

"Ah, Grunkle Stan!" Dipper whined, following after his Grunkle.

"Sorry, not sorry, kid. I'm using these old man powers while I still can."


	6. Underwater

A/N: I...might've hurt Ford a bit too much this chapter, didn't I? I didn't expect this chapter to delve so deep, but writing is just unpredictable like that.

I promise the next chapter will be much more light-hearted! I mean, it's gonna have Mabel in it, I'm not gonna be this cruel to our glitter daughter!

* * *

"Hurry, Dipper! We haven't much time!"

The twelve-year-old burst from the bushes, untangling his vest from wild branches with Journal 3 tucked under his arm. With a triumphant shout, he managed to race across the dirt path to his great uncle.

Ford was striding with utmost confidence, eyes on the Journal in his hands as he headed down a path he seemingly had gone through dozens of other times. It was all new to Dipper, the young boy having barely been able to even leave the Shack and actually explore ever since the incident in the gift shop. Stan had practically deemed the boy a personal servant until Ford called him out and announced Stan was perfectly fine to be walking and doing things on his own again. The gruff businessman still walked with a slight limp, his cane being used more than ever, but tours were running smoothly again and the gift shop was open for business...with a new rifle behind the counter at Wendy's expense for any future incidents.

Dipper had been correct on his suspicions that his great uncle had been sick a few days ago, but Ford was back on his feet and fully energized, flat out forgetting his nephew was only half his size, which resulted in Dipper having to trot to keep up. But the young boy hardly care...he was _finally_ able to explore with his idol!"

"Where are we going anyway?" Dipper questioned, as he finally reached Ford's side and kept the pace. Ford looked up from his book, smiling fondly down at the bright-eyed child beside him. He turned the book in his hands, displaying an unfinished page.

"Ages ago, when I first explored this forest, I had discovered something amazing! Flowers, that were able to heal just about any ailment or injury." Ford held the book closer, slowing his pace down as Dipper studied the page in awe. "Problem was I was chased away by a group of gnomes before I could grab any samples. I'm not sure if they still exist...but if they do, we'll have a miracle on our hands." Ford's voice held full excitement, almost to a level of giddiness.

"And maybe now if any of us get hurt, it'll be alright?" Dipper suggested, thinking back to his own accident concerning a car and the harsh asphalt of the road. Not very fun times.

"Definitely," Ford answered as he brought the book back to himself, scrutinizing it once more. "According to my records, the patch I had found wasn't too far from the Shack. There was a path somewhere that lead straight to it. So...right around...here." He came to a halt, snapping the book shut as Dipper stopped beside him.

The dirt road they had been following veered off into two different paths, not much different from one another. Both Ford and Dipper leaned to look down one path, then leaned the other way to peer down the other. Absolutely no difference.

"...or it was one of these, anyway. Dipper, my boy, I hate to ask you of this," Ford sighed, but didn't get far as Dipper hopped ahead towards the left path.

"If you want us to split up, that's totally okay!" He assured hastily, nearly tripping over a hole and barely managing to catch his balance. "Y-yeah...we can split up! And if we find the patch, we can meet back here!"

"...are you sure?"

"Pfft! Great Uncle Ford, I've been wandering this forest since Mabel and I arrived! I think I know my way around pretty decently!"

A look of consideration briefly flashed across Ford's face before he finally nodded his head. "Yes...very well, we'll do that. We'll meet back in this spot in ten minutes. If the patch is down either of these paths, it shouldn't be too far. Uh...ah, here, my boy." Ford reached into one of his pockets within his trench coat, bringing up a pad of sticky notes. Dipper watched as the author grabbed the pen from his pocket, scribbling something down before stooping down to Dipper. "Open your journal to the last page."

Dipper complied, flipping the pages and landing on the back cover. Ford stuck the note atop it, a well-done sketch of a flower. "They look somewhat like this, if my memory serves me right. If you don't find anything, don't try looking further, head right back."

"Got it!" Dipper returned the order with an enthusiastic nod. He couldn't help the broad smile on his face as Ford reopened his journal and headed down the opposite path, disappearing amongst the trees.

After a moment, Dipper remembered he had a responsibility and promptly continued down his path. Sneakers slapped against the dirt, kicking rocks aside and acting as if they were soccerballs flying into effortless goals. Man, he hadn't felt this hyped in a long while!

Ford entrusted him with a task, and he was intent on going through with it. It made him feel truly important, almost invincible. He would've punched any gremloblin who got in his way straight in the nose. Or at least...he felt he could've. Possibly. There would've been a faint chance he could've succeeded.

After a few more minutes of happy jogging, a faint noise was heard down the path. Dipper slowed to a fast walk, tugging at the brim of his cap and hugging the journal to his chest. The euphoric feeling dwindled to simple curiosity. The sound didn't seem very threatening, only a long continous noise that almost seemed to resemble...

...a brook? Or a river perhaps?

No, it had to be a river.

Dipper moved forward, brushing aside some dangling branches of pine needles from a nearby tree, and he slowly emerged into a clearing of sort. Trees surrounded him on all sides, one of the rare areas where he couldn't detect any other actual paths. Excitement washed over him like a wave, and he beamed as he moved ahead.

Directly in front of him was a rushing river. Sparkling clear water passed through, running over large rocks that almost created some form of a path to the other side. A calming atmosphere surrounded the stream of water, and Dipper resisted the urge to simply sit at the riverside and write in the journal. He needed to mark down this location for later.

This clearing was probably a dead end, if anything, Dipper concluded as he stooped down to inspect the water. He had time to linger before he returned to meet back with Ford. He reached a small hand out, fingers wiggling as water droplets flew up and covered his skin. The cooling sensation felt nice opposed to the usual heat of the summer sun, and he dropped his journal in the grass beside him and stretched another hand out.

Both hands dipped into the water, and he felt momentarily cooler as he lifted them back up. He shook the excess water off, wiping his hands down on his shirt as he sat back on his haunches.

It was then when he spotted the clearing on the other side of the river.

Nestled between a few bushes and a couple of pine trees, was a glistening flowerbed that almost seemed to glow in the shade. Vibrant red petals of what seemed to resemble roses, hidden in a small corner, practically waiting for somebody to find them.

"...oh my god," Dipper gasped, throwing both hands up to grab at his hat. "Oh my gosh, I found it! I found it!"

He snatched up his journal, flipping through the pages before landing on the back cover. The sticky note's drawing was identical to the flowers, and Dipper couldn't contain his excited squeal. "Yes! Yes! Oh, Ford's gonna love this!"

He stuck the journal into his vest, rushing forward and looking down to see where the river led. It stretched on, moving father ahead until it turned suddenly, no longer visible. Dipper looked the other way, his view obstructed by low hanging branches from the trees.

"I've gotta find some way around this..." The boy twin mused, placing a hand on his chin as he studied the river. It didn't seem very deep, but despite cooling his hands, actually taking a swim didn't seem very appealing. Ford's warning rung in his ears, of not going father than he needed to, and if Dipper returned sopping wet, Ford would probably put two and two together.

No, he could find a simple way. He could get those flowers, he certainly could!

He spotted the rocks jutting from the water, only slightly wet. He brightened upon finding all the rocks were within jumping or stepping distance, creating a zig zagging path straight to the other end. Perfect.

He approached the first rock, gauging the distance and figuring he could simply step to it. Both his arms stuck out in an attempt to balance, and he slid a foot off the grass and onto the rock. Once he figured he had a decent grip, he lifted the rest of himself onto it.

A small laugh escaped him, as he stood amidst the rushing water. Giddy antipation lifted his spirits through the roof, and he continued on his way painstakingly slow.

But it was only when he was in the middle of the path did he remember Ford's time limit.

He quickly lifted his wrist, checking his watch, and instantly frowning as he felt panic return. Fifteen minutes had suddenly passed...he was going to be late. Ford would go after him and catch him.

Apparently, there were going to be only two options: head back and muster up an excuse, or hurry his pace and hopefully grab the flowers and get to shore before Ford followed and realized what had happened.

Naturally, Dipper chose the latter.

"Easy, it's easy, it's easy!" He assured himself, putting his hand down to pull his attention from the ticking clock. "Jump rocks, grab the flowers, jump back, no pressure...or just...not a lot...shoot."

Yeah, this was going to be more difficult than he initially thought.

The boy twin picked up his pace, hopping across the rocks with his arms comically flying about in search of balance. Almost there, just a few rocks left...five more...four more...thr-

A scream tore from Dipper's throat as his shoe slid across the rock like it was made of butter, completely removing any ground from underneath him. And, almost like it had been in slow motion, Dipper's arms waved frantically as he fell backwards.

His head cracked against one of the rocks, his hat flying off and he saw stars for a split instant before he splashed into the water in a terrifyingly loud manner.

Coldness engulfed him, the refreshing sensation gone and replaced with one of nothing but ice and limb-numbing. A crackling filled his ears, the water swooping him away with a rapid pace he hadn't realized until it was too late. His head pounded with his heartbeat as he thrashed around, fighting to come afloat, to do _something._

His legs kicked uselessly, his arms waved through the water, and when the first inhalation of water filled his lungs, he let himself do nothing but panic.

* * *

Ford tapped his foot, looking down at his own watch before peering back at the path Dipper had disappeared down. Twenty-five minutes had passed, and the boy hadn't returned to the spot. Ford had figured five extra minutes would show the boy...then five more...then five more, until here he was, fifteen minutes later than the time he had stated.

He hadn't thought Dipper would've gotten lost, but felt downright stupid for assuming the kid would've been fine on his own. His nephew was a brilliant kid, a smart cookie much like himself, but these woods liked to play tricks sometimes.

"I shouldn't have agreed to the splitting up plan," Ford sighed regretfully, putting down his arm as he started down the path. It didn't take him very long before he heard the rushing of water, and he felt his heart began to pound at the implications.

...surely, Dipper hadn't...?

No, no, the boy knew better! Rivers were dangerous, their speed was unpredictable, it just wasn't a thing to be exploring.

Ford broke through the branches, stepping into the clearing and feeling momentarily surprised. He turned his head, seeing the crystal clear waters before his heart practically stopped at what he found in the middle of it.

A blue and white hat, with a pine tree on the front, sitting casually on a rock and nearly drenched. And directly across, the unmistakeable glow of unnatural flowers.

"...Dipper?" Ford called, moving forward and hoping his nephew had simply dropped the thing rather than what he thought. "Dipper, boy, come out, please!"

No answer.

"...Dipper, this isn't funny! Come out at once!"

Silence.

"...Dipper Pines!" Ford growled out, frustration taking the better of him as he moved forward. He followed the current of the river, peering down the waters, keeping a brisk pace and hoping he was wrong. That his great nephew was okay, playing a trick that was going to get him grounded for, oh gosh, solid _weeks_ if Ford got the upper hand in calling it...

"...Oh, sweet Moses..." Ford trailed off, seeing a flash of color farther down the stream. "...Dipper! Dipper!"

He broke into a frantic run, stomping against the grass. He only saw color, stark contrast against the blue waters, blurry movements underneath the water and flowing with the current. He wasn't sure what it was, but he hoped upon hope it wasn't what he _thought_ it was.

His breath came out ragged, a stitch forming in his side, but he pushed on, approaching the thing closer and closer before he reached it, then eventually passed it completely.

With that, he skidded to a halt and dropped to his knees, reaching a hand out. He caught the object, wishing it was just his nephew's fallen vest or maybe just some misfortunate creature who'd fallen in, just-

But the sheer weight of the object was enough to clue him in.

Ford yanked, feeling any breath he had left leave his body as Dipper was pulled from the waters. He scrambled to completely withdraw him from the stream, gathering the boy in his arms, a bundle of limbs and sopping clothing. He didn't care about the immediate chill, the water soaking into his sweater.

The boy twin was limp, a gash across his hairline, and blood slowly began to seep down behind his ear and down his neck, heading for the neckline of his soaked shirt. He was still, far too still, and his half-lidded eyes held nothing but faded brown and foreboding emptiness.

"Dipper! Dipper, wake up, my boy, c'mon now," Ford demanded, forcing himself to his feet and shaking the boy in his arms. There was no response, and Ford stayed still to see if his chest was rising or falling.

It remained still.

"Oh, god, oh god, oh god..." Ford collapsed back on the grass, laying his nephew down and feeling chilled by his eyes. Eyes that certainly weren't looking at him, just simply staring ahead. No, no, he wasn't supposed to be dealing with this, certainly not this. "Dipper, _Dipper,_ wake up, p-please..."

His composure was cracking the longer Dipper remained unresponsive, and Ford lifted himself up, looking around frantically as if he could get help in the middle of the forest. Complete fear was beginning to take over, as he realized what had happened. Dipper had been overenthusiastic...had disobeyed orders and gone right ahead...done what any excitable kid would do and attempted to please his Grunkle with a new find he could say he discovered all on his own...god, he shouldn't have left him alone.

"No...Dipper, boy..." Ford tried, shaking the kid's shoulder. "Oh god, S-Stan..."

No, he couldn't panic. He needed to take action.

He slipped off his coat in a fluid motion, stooping over his limp nephew and bundling the fabric over the gash in his hairline. He applied pressure for a second or two before facing the reality of what was truly of his little apprentice-to-be. Without a moment to waste, he placed two hands over the child's sternum and began compressions.

CPR was something Ford had known since high school. A thing he'd taught himself before perfecting it over the years within the portal, an action that was now as easy as breathing...oh, gosh, that was a terrible comparison.

Before Ford could bring himself to blow in air, there was a flicker of movement in the child's hand. A spark of something lit in his nephew's eyes, and then Dipper took in a wheezing and desperate breath.

Ford carefully slid his hand under his nephew's back, tilting the kid as water poured from Dipper's mouth, splashing into the grass. He coughed and hacked, drawing in deep frantic breaths as if air were limited and could be taken away if he didn't take advantage.

The coughs grew into heaves, his body convulsing, and Ford began drawing the kid closer and closer, until the coughing ceased. Dipper took in a rattling breath, before watery and life-filled brown eyes turned up to his Grunkle. "...G-Great Uncle F-"

The boy was cut off as he was pressed into his uncle's chest, Ford's arms enveloping the child as if he'd disappear. Dipper blinked, reaching his hands around to what he felt what his Grunkle's shoulder. "Ah...Great Uncle F-Ford, you're ch-choking me..."

There was a second more before he was pulled back. Dipper hissed slightly, shivering from the cold and feeling an unpleasant sting in his temple. "Ow...what happened? Am I hu...Great Uncle Ford? You're...you're crying."

"Dipper, boy, I just..." Ford trailed off, seeming, for once, unsure of what to say. Dipper watched in a mixture of worry and astonishment as another tear slipped down his uncle's cheek. "Oh, thank god..."

"I'm...I'm okay..." Dipper assured, setting a hand on his Grunkle's heaving chest. "Really! Ah...you, you need t' calm down, Great Uncle Ford. Breathe..."

"Breathe?! You _stopped_ breathing!" Ford spat, pulling Dipper close again, pressing his coat against the boy's wound. "You...I almost thought you had drowned on me."

There was a pause, before Dipper shrugged a bit, leaning his head against Ford's chest. "I dunno...I'm apparently legendary in the whole...stop breathing department."

"...huh?"

"I was born with the umbilical cord around my neck, Great Uncle Ford," Dipper informed, as if the fact were more like a rare tidbit of childhood. "And Mabel said when we were five, I choked on a candy. Dad always said I had lungs of steel, and that...well, my brushes with death seem more like jokes with how quickly I recover."

"...that better not have been a joke," Ford scowled, wiping at his eye with a damp sweater sleeve. Dipper quickly shook his head. "...regardless...you shouldn't have done that. Not without me in sight and even then, you should've waited for my instructions."

"...sorry."

"Well, what matters is that you're okay." Ford bundled his nephew in his arms, bringing himself to shaky legs. "I'll need to examine you once we get back to the Shack. Just focus on breathing, tell me if you feel anything wrong."

"M'cold, I guess," Dipper said, and he nestled further into Ford's chest as the man continued down the path. "...are we gonna have to tell Mabel and Stan? They won't let me out of the house for weeks if we do."

"Unfortunately, I think I will have to inform them of you nearly dying on me," Ford stated bitterly, before letting out an exhausted sigh. "...I'm sorry, too, Dipper. I shouldn't have let you go. That wasn't a very smart move for me. It's mostly my fault for not keeping an eye on you." He smiled wryly. "That will make two of us. Stan won't be very happy with me."

"...I'm sorry I got you in trouble then."

"Again. We're both toast."

"But I found the flowers!" Dipper insisted, pointing down to the opposite bank. "You...you think maybe if I use it, we won't need to worry about medical conditions?"

Ford stopped, studying the flowerbed for a moment before stooping down to lay Dipper on the grass. "Boy, you're quite the fast-thinker."

It only took mere moments for Ford to hop the river and retrieve the flowers. He stuffed a good majority in his pocket, ready to brew them into a tea the minute they got home. He bundled his nephew back in his arms, instructing him to focus on breathing.

Nothing felt better at that moment than seeing Dipper's bright brown and lively eyes gaze up at him.


	7. Broken Bones

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I'm hopefully back on track. I've still got some more drabbles after this, this series is definitely still going!

I kinda hit two birds with one stone, or rather had two Grunkles to one nibling, whoops. Still good though. Also Dipper is a bit of a sassy lil' doot, hah.

* * *

The day was warmer than usual, hot sun baking against multicolored canopies stretched wide over tables littered with goods. Signs fluttered in the stuffy wind, displaying prices for everyone to see, only a handful actually ridiculous numbers.

The festival was flooding with people, murmurs of the slow-moving crowd mixing with whatever noises rang out from the small makeshift booths. Windchimes played clinking melodies in the corner, a child beat against a used drumset for sale, guitars strummed somewhere in the distance. The scent of food wafted in the air, salty popcorn mingling with hot dogs and...perhaps that was a whiff of pizza.

The atmosphere was cheerful, yet peacefully comfortable. Amidst the wandering families, one stood out from the rest, two identical-looking older men each clutching a child's hand; both of whom also resembled each other.

Mabel gnawed at the ice pop in hand, juice dribbling over her fingers as she swung her Grunkle Stan's arm with the other. Dipper was right beside her, sucking a lollipop and a red balloon tied around his wrist, his own hand clasped in Grunkle Ford's.

"This is dumb," Stan commented as they made their way down the road, passing booths that held hand-me-downs and trinkets. "None of this stuff's worth takin'. It's junk."

"One man's trash is another man's treasure, Grunkle Stan!" Mabel chirped out around her popsicle, and Dipper nodded in agreement, candy preventing him from vocally placing input.

Ford glanced interestedly at the things on the table, pausing every now and then to study something intriguing. Dipper gleefully followed suit and was perfectly happy searching for things that could lead to potential inventions, and Mabel was busy with her own treat, but Stan only grunted disapprovingly. Ford shot his twin a glance before resuming on his way.

"You know, Stanley, maybe if you actually looked around, you'd enjoy yourself," Ford pointed out. Dipper stumbled and tripped over something underfoot and Ford deftly yanked his nephew back to his feet. "Besides, we're doing this for the children."

"Frankly, I shouldn't have agreed at all with ya bein' near the kids for the next week!" Stan harrumphed, shouldering past a family with a wailing child. "Yeesh, that chick's got one ugly baby..."

"Stanley!"

Mabel peered up, catching the grumpy look on her uncle's face and she mustered a grin she hoped radiated positivity. "Aw, c'mon, Grunkle Stan! So what if Dipper fell in some dumb river? Ford helped and they're okay!" She recalled the event Dipper had told her briefly the night before, when he was in bed drinking some weird tea that smelled funny. It was something she had easily brushed off as pure accident, but it was obvious her uncle didn't feel the same way.

In fact, he'd been annoyed all morning, slamming pots and pans in the kitchen during breakfast. Ford had risen from his cave behind the vending machine, informing the three about a festival happening downtown, with people from different places settling in to sell their stuff. The kids had become elated and Stan had given in after the two's begging. Mabel's incessant pleading was usually enough, but when Dipper joined in, they were practically unstoppable.

"Okay?!" Stan snorted, that weird tone in his voice from the morning returning. "Ford had t'..." Stan trailed off, shooting his nerdy counterpart a glare before looking away. "...I ain't happy with him, pun'kin."

"Well, then ya gotta hug it out!" Mabel stated vehemently, pulling her popsicle from her mouth. Dipper gazed over, reaching up his free hand to pull the lollipop from his own mouth. "You really don't wanna rile her up, man."

Ford rolled his eyes the way he only ever did with Stanley, ending his gaze on a table nearby littered with mechanical parts. He slowed his walking, nudging Dipper forward and raising a hand to point at a specific piece. "Dipper, boy, look! That piece looks a lot like the communicator that broke last week."

"You think it can replace the old one?" Dipper's eyes gleamed, and he slipped forward a bit to look closer. "We should get it and try, Grunkle Ford!"

Stan placed his free hand on his hip, staring at the two before glancing down at his niece. Mabel entertained herself enough with the cold treat Stan had bought her, but he could tell she wasn't very pleased with the constant stops either.

"Alright, fine!" The businessman snapped, pulling Mabel along as he continued forward. "Mabel and I will just go our own way!"

Dipper raised his head, a small expression of worry crossing over his face, but Ford only waved a hand at the two with slight disinterest. "Call when you want to meet up, Stanley."

Mabel squinted at her Great Uncle Ford, bemusement taking over the inital cheeriness that she'd carried as Stan pulled her along. Her Grunkles were arguing again...and they had been doing quite well for a while too! Her and Dipper had counted out a whole week that the two were actually talking and acting like brothers again, and she was inwardly disappointed they couldn't keep up the streak.

Her brother soon disappeared in the crowd as she walked on, the icepop melting in her hand as she jogged to keep up with Stan's angry pace. After a few minutes, she tugged at his hand, but failed to grasp his attention. She dropped the remains of her ice pop and used both hands to tug, and he finally slowed down enough to look down at her.

"...you're walking too fast," She stated matter-of-factly, falling back onto a brisk pace, sneakers lighting up with every step. She didn't hide the disappointment in her voice, and she knew Stan knew that.

He frowned enough that it almost seemed like a hidden grimace, before he sighed and came to a full stop. Mabel grinned widely as she held out both hands, Stan picking her up and placing her on his shoulders with ease.

He gripped her legs as she latched both hands on his fez, her eyes sparkling as she viewed the festival from a higher angle. Tilting her head a bit, the breeze felt far much cooler than it did lower on the ground.

It took a while for the crowd to thin out, but the pair soon arrived at a far corner of the festival, the booths now holding more expensive merchandise. Sports mementos, professionally framed photos, things that glimmered and shone under the setting sunlight. Sparkly artwork and statues caught Mabel's eye and she beamed. The junk and scraps area was home for Dipper and Ford, but this place was perfect for Mabel and Stan.

"Finally," Stan grumbled, loosening his grip a bit as he brushed at his coat. "That was gettin' way too personal. Yeesh, I feel like that guy next t' me rubbed corndog smell all over my jacket."

"Aw, Grunkle Stan, corndogs smell great!" Mabel chimed in, her head turning and gaze locking on a table full of bright pins and buttons, contrasting with the white tablecloth they were set over.

"Not these, kid. Greasy stuff is good t' sell, but I hate handlin' it." Stan huffed, eyeing a particular watch as they passed what seemed to be a jewelry booth. He stopped short, his shoulders hunching a bit and Mabel pitched forward with the movement. "Say, lookit this stuff."

"Grunkle Stan, we should be buying things here!" Mabel scolded, breaking her attention from the shiny and shimmery yard decorations just across from her upon realizing what her uncle was musing over. "Also you had weird bad luck with that last watch you tried to st-"

"I didn't do anythin'!" Stan interruped raucously, lifting his shoulders enough so she broke her sentence and bounced, scrambling to hold onto him. "Stealin'? Oy, your imagination is gettin' greater, kid!" He reached up to muss her hair, but only succeeded in flipping her headband downwards and into her face. He ignored her huff as he plastered on a grin, glancing at the keeper of the booth and lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "Hah, kids these days!"

"Nngh..." Mabel spat out a strand of hair before knocking her heel against Stan's shoulder. "Down."

Reluctantly, Stan obliged, lifting her up and then back on the floor and subject to the disapproving glare on her face. He straightened up, smiling down at her, but she only pointed a single finger at him instead. "I don't wanna be run out by security, Grunkle Stan!"

"Aw, c'mon, kiddo, when have we ever-"

"Again," Mabel added.

"...okay, so that happened before, like, what, two times?"

"Four."

"Three, right. But stores are sticklers like that." He patted her back, moving her forward a bit and flashing a showman's smile. "These festivals are different. Too many people, pun'kin, we'd be fine."

"No, you can't!" Mabel reiterated forcefully. "Besides, I wanna take pictures to show to Dipper later! Since he and Great Uncle Ford are off doing weird nerdy stuff."

"Pictures are overrated. Ya gotta learn t' live with the now, kiddo. Gettin' stuck in the past is gonna distract you." Stan instantly shot back, before crossing his arms into pout that was very close to being completely childish. "Just like now..."

"Grunkle Staaaan!"

All heads turned as Mabel switched to her tactic of high-pitched begging. Stan flinched on instinct, glaring down at her before rubbing the bridge of his nose and glaring down the closest people he could. "Alright, I get the picture. Here, let's go get ya some ice cream or somethin'."

"I already got ice cream."

"We'll get ya more."

Mabel shrugged, wearing a triumphant smile and proud gleam in her eyes as she slipped her hand in her Grunkle's hand and pulled him along to gaze at the shiny pins and buttons. "Just doing my job, Grunkle Stan!"

"What, did Ford pay ya t' make sure I don't shoplift?" Stan snorted, rolling his eyes at the colorful collection on the tables before he paused. "...he did, didn't he?"

"Ta-da! A crisp fiver!" Mabel held up a bill seemingly out of nowhere with a flourish, waving the object in the air like a flag. "He also paid Dipper, just in case." She let the words die on her lips upon seeing the fury seeping back on Stan's face. "...Grunkle Stan, we just wanna keep you outta jail. Those orange jumpsuits would not suit you."

"You don't wanna keep me outta jail!" Stan huffed, his voice low and almost thunderous, animosity lacing his words. "Ford does! Can't trust me with stuff like this, and expects me t' trust him with Dipper after nearly killin' the kid!"

"But Dipper was alright-" Mabel tried to break in, but her uncle tore away from her, movements harried and violent as he stalked back to the jewelry booth. "Oh, for the sake of-Grunkle Stan, hold on!" She hurried after him, hearing him mutter under his breath.

"Damn knucklehead...doesn't think...can't trust me? That what it is?" A determined glower settled over her uncle's face. "I'll show that damn nerd he can't tell me what to do."

"Grunkle Stan, this is exactly what he didn't want you to do! You're only proving that..." Mabel huffed, but fell quiet as Stan straightened himself up, moving past the crowd to walk up to the booth. To her dismay, he reached over and slipped a watch into his sleeve at the speed of light, acting as if he were merely browsing the merchandise. A man in a gaudy t-shirt waltzed up next to him, laughing and actively chatting with the keeper of the booth and only supplying more distraction.

"I'm a disgrace to you." Mabel grumbled to the five dollar bill in hand before stuffing it in her pocket and then being taken aback as she looked up. Her eyes visibly widened as she caught sight of two security guards lounging only a few feet away, sipping from steaming coffees and having small talk.

"Grunkle Staaan!" The girl twin stumbled forward, gripping her uncle's coat and tugging at the fabric desperately. "Ah, uh, the eagle is watching! Red alert! Th-the danger is near and...and evacuation-"

"Kid, will you knock it off?" Stan hissed, glancing at the owner before reaching to snag a shimmery necklace. "I'm kinda busy."

"But...now's not the time!" Mabel snapped back just as fiercely. "Can't we, I dunno, go far away from here?! Put the stuff back and let's go! What do you even need jewelry for anyway? Because unless I'm gonna be doing some famous match-making soon, you don't need it!"

"Yeesh, whatever happened to my partner in crime?" Stan raised in eyebrow in her direction, stopping her in her tracks. "Pipe down, or you're gonna get us ratted out."

Mabel frowned, keeping her grip on his suit but taking a few paces back as he glanced over the collection. His eyes shone when he caught sight of a diamond necklace on a table farther back, out of reach of the crowd. "Hey, come help me, will ya? Go under the table and nab that."

"Uh-uh." Mabel refused, shaking her head.

"Oy, c'mon, kid!"

"No! I'm putting my foot down, Grunkle Stan!" Mabel spat, before glancing down and then stomping a single foot. "Eh. Really, we should go back to Dipper and Great Uncle-"

"No way. We're doin' fine on our own. And we'll be back with a big haul to shove in their faces! Imagine how much we can resell." Stan whispered, nudging her and flashing a grin, but she could tell he was forcing it.

"I don't wanna." Her voice was weaker, composure cracking, and her uncle's smile fell.

"Fine. Hold tight."

"...huh-"

Within a second, Stan leapt forward, boosting himself over the table to swipe the necklace from the tabletop. Screams arose from frightened people as the table tipped over, jewelry flying everywhere as Stan scrambled back and began to race off into the crowd. Mabel dove forward, her hand clutching onto his coat and she was instantly led off into the fray.

Almost immediately, whistled pierced the air, and Mabel forced her feet to move faster. Stan seemed to rely on her hold on his coat because he made no move to grab her hand, occupied with serving distractions for the cops chasing them. He passed a table, pushing it over and Mabel jumped aside as vases fell and shattered on the ground. Screams rose from the crowd and the chaos was beginning to erupt.

"Grunkle Stan, slow down!" Mabel spared a glance back, snapping her mouth shut upon noticing the cops had been added onto. Four of the suited men were after the pair, no very far behind. "Go faster, GO FASTER!"

"Kid, I'm old!" Stan snapped back as he pushed over a food cart, another distraction and another reason for passerby to scream. "And my leg's barely healed!"

"Well, then, maybe you shouldn't have tried to shoplift!" Mabel bit back.

"Well, my usual partner in crime didn't want to cooperate!" Stan returned just as quickly, and he pulled a smoke bomb from his coat. Mabel felt herself stumbling as his words registered. Surely it couldn't be her fault? Then again, they were being chased and had the chance of being caught and kicked out and banned forever and sent to jail and why hadn't she just grabbed that stupid necklace-

Her fingers lost grip of Stan's coat just as the smoke bomb exploded. Gray haze surrounded her, filling her nostrils with a smoky scent, and she hacked and coughed before losing her uncle completely and crumpling to the floor. As fun as the smoke bombs were, she didn't approve of using them in intense situations. Either that, or she needed to create ones that smelled fruity or something.

"Grunkle Stan!" She called helplessly, and then nearly didn't manage to avoid a nearby person stepping on her hand. "Ah! Oh, gosh, Grunkle Stan, hel-"

She couldn't finish her sentence. The cops suddenly arrived, running into the smoke, but not having expected a little girl in their path. Mabel shrieked as one man tripped over her and landed directly on her, slamming her into the dirt. Then another cop fell, and another, soon dog-piling her unintentionally.

Normally, she could've squirmed out easily, but the four cops had managed to catch her in an awkward position, and once she heard the resounding crack from her arm, she let loose an ear-splitting scream.

* * *

Meanwhile, Stan hadn't noticed the absence of his niece, and had reached Ford and Dipper near the middle of the festival. Ford didn't look very happy, seeming to have already sensed what had happened.

"Alright, we gotta leave, now!" Stan ordered, and Ford glowered in his twin's direction. "You knucklehead, what did you DO?"

Before either could answer, Dipper looked around his Grunkle, eyes scanning the proximity before he peered up towards Stan suspiciously. "Uh...where's Mabel?"

"What?" Stan glanced down at his nephew disinterestedly. "Mabel? She's right behind m-" he trailed off as he looked in the spot she had been in, seeing only empty space, and Popsicle sugar marks on the back of his suit. "Oh...oh, sweet Moses..."

"You lost her," Ford breathed before his voice intensified. "You LOST HER?!"

"I didn't lose her!" Stan snapped. "She just...wandered! We can find her, she knows the rules when she's lost!"

"You lost my sister?!" Dipper didn't help the matter, only growing panicked as he raced forward. "Mabel! Mabel!"

"Dipper, stop!" Ford scooped the kid up, raising him even as his legs kicked. "Don't run off too! We'll all search together, we'll find her eventually."

"Splitting up would be easier!" Stan harrumphed, searching the colorful booths for his equally colorful niece, but he only caught sight of dozens of unrecognizable strangers. Mabel was good about abiding to rules about being lost, but she couldn't do anything if she was kidnapped.

"Right. And you'd probably lose her again," Ford replied dryly, propping Dipper on his hip as he purposely strode forward. "There's no time to waste. She could get hurt."

Stan glowered, instead plucking Dipper from his twin and setting the kid on the ground. "Really, I shouldn't be trustin' ya with the kid at all!"

"Stanley, now is not the time!"

"I don't care! You're tryin' to blame me for irresponsibility when you've gone and done the same! Worse, even!" Stan shouted, throwing up his arms in exasperation.

"It was an accident, Stan-" Ford broke off, placing two fingers on the bridge of his nose and sighing. "...look, I'm sorry, Lee, it won't happen again, but we need to focus on the matter at hand here! Mabel's lost and we need to find her!"

Stan grimaced, feeling the guilt crawl up on him, and he gave a curt nod. "Fine. Fine! But we really oughta split up. Cover more ground. Dipper can..." Stan broke off, and instead gripped Ford's shoulder and spun him around. "And there the kid goes, goddammit!"

The boy twin was racing off into the crowd, having gotten fed up with the twins' arguing and gone after his sister. Weird twin instinct led him easily, but Ford and Stan had to run to keep up with the child who possessed much higher energy.

They kept Dipper's balloon in sight, the red object floating and bouncing above the crowd's heads. It stopped around a particularly heavy crowd, and Mabel's name rang out in his voice.

Stan and Ford worked to push past the people, soon shoving aside whoever wouldn't automatically move. The two broke through enough to find Dipper kneeling beside his sister, who was sprawled in the dirt crying and being tended to by a passerby.

"Mabel!" The two called in unison, and Dipper looked up with wild eyes. "Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, she's hurt! She won't stop crying or tell us what's wrong-"

Stan gripped his twin's sleeve, catching sight of a cop coming their way with first aid in tow. "We gotta high tail it, Sixer."

"Let me guess. You're wanted," Ford sighed in exasperation.

"Ah, when aren't I?" Stan carefully stooped down, gathering Mabel gently into his arms, but only wincing when she wailed out in pain. Ford took Dipper's hand tightly in his own before withdrawing his own smoke bomb that Stan had given him. It was a decent excuse to put it to good use.

Within seconds, the crowd was submerged in thick smoke, and the family managed to escape the chaos and make a beeline back to the car. With the finding of a back exit through the fence, and Dipper's use of Mabel's grappling hook to climb over it and unlock said exit, they were hardly winded once they reached the Stanmobile, sitting patiently under the shade of a clump of pine trees.

Ford laid against the hood of the car, gathering his bearings as Dipper sat down on the floor, inches from the bumper. He untied the balloon from his wrist and let it float upwards into the sky, soon nothing but a speck of red against brilliant blue.

Despite their triumphant escape, a somber mood still draped over them.

"Alright," Stan voiced as Mabel's whimpers became the only thing heard. "Let's see the damage..." He swung open the passenger door, sitting in the seat and facing out of the car to give enough room to sit Mabel on his knee.

The girl was covered head to toe in dirt, leaves and broken vase shards within her hair. Stan brushed them out with a single broad hand as Dipper approached, plucking leaves from his sister's sweater. Tear tracks ran down her face, and the pain taking over her expression made it clear something was very wrong.

"Mabel, you gotta talk to us, tell us what hurts," Stan stated, reaching over to tilt her head towards him with a tap on her chin. "C'mon, sweetie..."

"Her arm," Dipper pointed out when his twin didn't respond. "Something's wrong with her arm."

"Here, let me try." Ford slid over, and Stan transferred Mabel to his brother, allowing Ford the spot on the seat and moving to stand beside Dipper. Ford eased the child into his lap, reaching over and gripping the arm that looked slightly deformed. Mabel immediately gave a hiss of pain, kicking her legs as an outlet of emotion and squeezing her eyes shut. "Ow, ow, OW!"

"Does that hurt?" Ford questioned, slipping a knife from his boot and cutting off the respective sleeve. Mabel made a noise of disappointment as the fabric fell to the ground. Tears began to gather in her eyes again, pain quite obvious.

"Stop crying, Mabel, it's okay!" Dipper assured, grabbing the fabric and shoving it in his vest. "We can fix it and we actually escaped the police without consequence for once! ...although we just better hope they don't come after us because I dunno about alibi..."

"Looks like it's broken, alright," Ford sighed, gently raising Mabel's arm and noting the look it held, and the swelling that was quickly occurring. "Seems like a closed fracture however. I can fix this. Dipper, fetch my first aid kit, I believe I stowed it in the backseat."

"Ya stored one away in my car without sayin' anythin'?" Stan huffed, as Dipper opened the door and obliged, crawling into the backseat and searching the floor.

"Not like yours had much, Grunkle Stan!" Dipper voiced. "Besides, you used up all your bandages on me that one time...ooh, found it!" The boy twin scampered out, carrying a large black bag with a clasp rather than a zipper.

"Thank you, bring it here. Stan, I'll need you to kneel her and hold her so I can deal with the break." Ford's orders were sharp as he focused on the task, and Dipper solemnly brought the kit before sitting in the backseat and watching his sister closely. Stan reluctantly moved forward, taking Mabel into his arms and kneeling before his brother, seating his niece on one knee. "...dammit, this is gonna strain my legs, ain't it?"

"You're not the one with a broken arm," Ford quipped as he dug around the kit for the right supplies.

Stan opened his mouth to argue, but Mabel only hiccuped, wiping an arm across her face for a second before interrupting. "It's not Stan's fault. I fell when he threw the smoke bomb. Then the cops piled onto me and I think one of them landed on my arm weird. I just remember hearing the snap." She sniffed, shooting her Grunkle Stan a glance. "I thought dog piles were supposed to be fun."

"They are when they're not grown-ass stupid cops who can't watch where they're going," Dipper muttered bitterly, then quickly ducked himself down upon Ford's disapproving glare.

"Well, it's..." Stan swallowed hard, as Ford focused on fixing his niece's arm. "...it's kinda my fault, kiddo. Shouldn't have pressured ya. I forget you're twelve and still got some years for me t' teach ya."

"But if I had just grabbed that stupid necklace, I wouldn't have ruined the trip! Ow, ow, ow..." Mabel winced as Ford began to wound something around her arm.

"You're hurting her," Dipper stated, his voice taking on a warning tone and Ford sighed, but slowed his movements just a bit.

"I don't want ya blamin' yourself, kid." Stan said sternly, and Mabel glanced at him with watery eyes. "You were...you were right. I shouldn't have tried stealin' with you in my care and it ain't gonna happen again. You've earned that fiver."

Ford grunted, shooting his brother a glare before unfolding a sling from the kit. "Right, Stanley. Remember that."

"Yeah. So long as another certain someone doesn't leave his kid unattended."

Ford heaved a sigh, carefully setting Mabel's arm in the sling correctly and patting her shoulder reassuringly. "Yes, alright, let's vow to actually be responsible from here on out."

"...that's not gonna last long and you both know it!" Mabel sang out, wiping the last of her tears from her eyes upon Stan's raucous laughter.

"Sooo, if Stan is wrong, does that mean we get a repeat of the Stan Wrong Song?" Dipper chimed in as Ford stowed the supplies back in his kit and handed it over for the boy to replace in its spot.

"Alright, kid, that's enough outta you." Stan gathered Mabel in his arms, as Ford left the passenger side to move to the driver's side, letting the businessman slide back into the seat with Mabel in his arms. "Now you can be alone back there, silent. We're good without your gracious input."

"But-"

"Silent!"

Dipper huffed, pouting in the backseat as Ford started the car up. The vehicle slowly pulled out of its spot, making a hasty retreat back to the Shack with constant checks for any following policemen. The coast remained clear, and Dipper was allowed to roll his window down and stare out amongst the expanse of pine trees that flitted by.

"I'm sorry, pun'kin..." Stan muttered as Mabel curled up within his hold, her casted arm pressed close to her body. She burrowed closer into his hold, beaming up with a forgiving smile. "S'okay. So long as you're not in an ugly prison jumpsuit."

"Frankly," Dipper piped up rapidly from the backseat before Stan could scold him. "I'm glad we're all not in ugly prison jumpsuits!"

Ford tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, fully thankful they had left the festival as unscathed as they could've been and inwardly seconding Dipper's statement. After a beat of silence, he peered over at his twin with a malicious smirk. "So...the Stan Wrong Song?"

"...Dipper, you're grounded."

"Aw, Grunkle Stan!"


	8. Rainy Night

Rain pattered relentlessly against the Mystery Shack's roof, the large and sudden storm clouds showing no mercy. Water gurgled through the leaf-cluttered gutters, dripping down and creating large puddles of mud in the lawn Stan never bothered to care for. Gompers bleated his annoyance, but no one within the Shack was awake to hear him.

Stan snored away in his chair in the living room, the TV playing reruns of the Duchess Approves, casting a multitude of soft light over his slumbering form. Up in the attic, the twins were each snuggled under a blanket, the rain and imminent leaks hardly fazing them in their dreams. The atmosphere almost passed as peaceful, no worries or problems to care for, no police to fret about now that Stan had hung a fake "On Vacation" sign on the door.

Meanwhile, down in the basement, the rain was barely heard through the deepest floor, where Ford slept fitfully atop his desk. His paperwork and a single journal acted as a makeshift pillow, and he crossed his arms over as a cushion to lay his head. The occasional rumbling snore escaped him, as he tossed and turned his head every so often.

But, within a few seconds, the alarm clock beside him rang out inches from his ear. Ford jerked awake with a startled yell, gazing around the room with a hand on his gun before recognizing the sanctuary of the basement. With a weary sigh, he scrubbed at an eye underneath his lenses and slapped the alarm clock quiet. Its shrilly call ceased.

Everyone else was warm and comfortable within their beds, but Ford wasn't. He had a job to do.

He blinked away the lingering sleepiness, his usual insomnia kicking in as he looked down at the papers gathered beneath him. He shifted a few, sorting them into the right piles before yawning and flipping his journal to the right page.

He had been within the basement since they reached the Shack, poring over his pages and searching for a way to create some type of cure for Mabel's predicament. The girl twin had complained about the pain in her arm, shedding a few tears despite Dipper's frantic attempts to cheer her. He'd even granted permission to paint his nails however she wanted, with all the sparkles and glitter she could grab, and Stan had even chimed in his permission as well, but it hadn't really helped. She had uncharacteristically denied, her right arm useless and her left arm not as intricate with painting, and she stated she saw no use.

Stan had eventually handed over two of the last painkillers he could find in the back of the medicine cabinet before she left for bed, which meant he had to go out directly in the morning for more. The rain, however, would slow him down, and Mabel had seemed to sense that when she first heard the droplets pinging against the roof, her usual exclamation of "rain!" absent.

Ford would've been glad to fork over the flower he and Dipper had discovered in the woods only the day prior. Unfortunately, he'd overlooked the important fact of the dose. He scrawled it in his book now, but the more extreme the injury, the more doses of the tea he'd created with that flower were needed. Dipper had drank every drop of the concoction Ford had whipped up, all flowers gone from his small satchel, since the child had, well, had a near-death experience. Ford still had checked Dipper's chest that night to ensure no water was still in his lungs.

So the magical healing flowers were a no-go. Mabel was stuck with her injury like it or not, and Ford was hellbent on finding something that'd ease her pain after hearing her cry during dinner. There were many factors, such as needing help with every little thing, but the pain itself seemed to be bothering her most.

"There's got to be something..." Ford muttered under his breath, gnawing on the end of a pen as he flipped through pages in the journal. Of course, it was useless, he'd memorized the thing page to page, and the few things that probably could speed Mabel's healing were impossible to get to at this time of year. The pen snapped during one of Ford's strong bites, and the author gagged as it spilt ink all over his chin.

He wiped at his mouth somberly, slamming the book closed. Even those flowers he and Dipper had discovered were gone by now. He'd picked all of the patch, and finding another small growth would be a pain. Ford didn't want to exactly scour the forest looking for it either...not with the rain, and not when Stan was already cross with his earlier decisions.

Ford slipped the journal back on its shelf, pushing his chair back and stretching his limbs. The last option he could take was to use those painkillers Stan would buy tomorrow and enhance them enough to reach prescription-status. So long as it helped ebb away Mabel's pain. The young girl didn't deserve it, at all. Dipper was more crabby and weary with his sister's unhappiness too. Stan had sent the boy up early without dessert when Dipper snapped at him impudently, and that only made Mabel cry more for what she regarded as a cruel punishment because "everyone deserves dessert!".

The whole family would be unhappy if Mabel wasn't back to her cheery self soon. Ford himself missed the young girl running about the house, glitterfying his things, making something topped with jars of sprinkles and a dash of edible glitter Dipper had bought for her for dessert. But he could feel the fatigue building up in his aged limbs, and it was throwing off his focus.

It was then when he began to crave the lukewarm bitterness of coffee, something to act as a refresher and help him think. Yes...he could worry about the situation ten minutes from now. He just needed something to land him back on track.

Within a minute or two, he burst into the living room, still rubbing an eye and trying to stifle a yawn. Stan was sprawled on his chair, open-mouthed and practically rattling the room with heavy snores. Ford sleepily wandered to the TV and clicked it off, plunging the pair into semi-darkness aside from the light from the fish tank.

The elder twin reached down to grab the afghan crumpled to the floor. He gave it a shake before smoothing it over his brother's slumbering form, and then headed to the kitchen.

The light flickered on after a few tries, and Ford fell into his routine of making his pot of coffee, letting his mind wander to other things. His hands worked deftly, the beverage made in almost no time at all with the machine Ford had spruced up to make his much-needed brew in little time. Stan often complained Ford would be the reason machines took over the Earth one day, but Ford took his inventions with pride and convenience.

He took a few swallows from the mug by habit, nearly choking as the warmth nearly burnt his tongue. The drink was black and strong, the way he took it when he felt he needed the boost itself rather than something to perk him up in the morning. Of course, it took multiple cups to give him even a smidgen of energy. Drinking coffee had been a thing since college, and drinking coffee-like drinks had been a thing during his time in the portal. He was going to be up in the kitchen for a while.

It didn't bother him much. He felt almost relieved, happy to take a break from constant failure after failure of finding a solution to the problem. He swirled the drink in his cup, watching the steam rise from the liquid before turning to watch the rain pattering against the glass of the windowpane.

Yes, it was far more peaceful in the house, and he felt his prior frustration slowly fading. Stan had even turned on the heater; a very rare occurence. He took another sip of the now lukewarm beverage, before vaguely wondering how the children were doing. Maybe it'd help to peek in on them. He could use the excuse of checking in on Mabel.

He refilled his mug before silently creeping up the steps, passing his sleeping twin now curled up in the blanket. His boots thudded softly against the wooden stairs,paired with the occasional creak, and Ford quickly grasped hold of his sneaky tendencies as he approached the twins' room. He hardly ever checked on the children, so his knowledge on whether or not they were heavy sleepers wasn't exact, but the habit had become more and more frequent.

The door opened with a hesitant creak, and he poked his head into the darkened room. The rain was more prominent up in the attic, pattering against the roof with a more frequent force. Small droplets splattered in pots and bowls spread throughout the floor, the children foreseeing the leaks, and it didn't seem to bother them any. Shafts of very faint moonlight peeked through the window, and Ford had to blink to adjust to the darkness.

Dipper hung half-on, half-off his bed, sporting his usual attire of a t-shirt and shorts, his hand nearly brushing the wooden floor. His blanket was crumpled near his feet in a forgotten heap, and his mouth was wide open as small snores rose from his direction in bursts. Waddles was curled under his other arm, sleeping soundly alongside him.

...which was odd. Usually, the pig remained devoted to being near Mabel.

Ford turned his attention to Mabel's bed, and was startled to see only a bundle of fabric where she sat, and the vague noise of sobbing now rising above the noise of rain.

The author quietly walked in her direction, mindful of Dipper, and stepped over a pot in his path. Mabel was nothing but a small ball, hiding within her sweater, which only stretched to an impossible degree with her bulky cast. The ball quivered and twitched as she sniffed and sobbed, a noise Ford was becoming used to hearing already. Not that he liked hearing it.

Ford felt his heart ache for the girl, wishing he hadn't needed to see her like this. But, he found it a slight blessing he'd found her instead. Stan would've felt ultimately more guilty in seeing her in this state, being the unintentional cause, and Ford noticed his twin had been more reserved during the night, watching his soap operas and eating ice cream...two pints rather than his usual one.

Slowly, Ford lowered himself and sat on the child's bed. Mabel's mattress lifted under his weight, and her hiccups ceased, her form freezing in confusion. Before he could scare her, Ford quickly whispered out a concerned "Mabel?"

A beat of silence. He could see his niece's expression, but after a second, she seemed to recognize the voice. "...Mabel's not here. She's in Sweatertown."

"Ah." Ford shifted, lifting a leg onto the bed and directly facing her. "May I receive an invitation?"

Another pause. His usually talkative niece was silent. "...uh-uh."

"Oh." Ford looked down at his mug, taking a small sip of the drink he didn't really want anymore.

"...I'm leaving anyway."

He looked up from his coffee as Mabel slowly withdrew from her sweater sanctaury. Her head popped out, hair messy and sticking out in odd places, her headband missing. Tear tracks moved down her cheeks, sloping downwards towards her chin. She struggled to remove her sweater, the garment having been slipped over her floppy disk nightgown, and a cry of despair escaped her as her cast got stuck.

Ford set his mug down on the floor, scooting forward to help her out. It didn't seem to help her mood any, and he felt alarmed when she began to cry harder.

"Mabel, is something wrong?" He questioned uneasily, her eyes shutting closed as she gave another shuddering sob. He could barely see much of her other than her face, illuminated by whatever light streamed through the window. But he could catch the vague shadows underneath her, her casted arm clasped close to her body. "...are you in serious pain? Because if you are, I need to bring you down for closer inspection, I might've done something wrong."

"N-no." Mabel shook her head quickly, almost desperately. "No, s-s'not your f-fault! It's m-mine!"

Ford watched her for a few seconds before moving closer, shoving her discarded bedspread out of the way. He was seated only inches away from her, his form lurking over her. She looked utterly helpless, and to be quite honest, it scared the older man. "I don't understand, Mabel. It's not your fault your arm is broken."

"Y-yuh-huh!" Mabel shot back, tears sliding down from her lashes, and she sniffed, ending it with a shuddering cough. "I f-fell...I fell and slowed Grunkle S-Stan, and then I ended the trip because I-I'm clumsy."

"Don't blame yourself for something Stan did," Ford stated sternly, stooping down to look into her eyes. "It's not your fa...Mabel, look at me."

Mabel responded with a pained noise, turning her head away and squeezing her eyes shut. She gave a small hiss, rubbing at her arm and her shoulders rising to her ears as she tried to curl up even further. "Don't blame G-Grunkle Stan. It's not his fault!"

"Alright." Ford paused, sparing a glance towards his nephew. Dipper shifted in his covers, only emitting a sleepy sigh before turning his back to the pair, Waddles clutched in his arms. The author turned his attention back to his sniveling niece, who refused to raise her head upon feeling his gaze on her. "...then if it's not your fault or Stan's fault, whose is it?"

Mabel seemed to freeze at the inquiry, her sniffles slowing as she seemed to contemplate the question.

"...is it my fault?" Ford asked uneasily, searching her face for any indication of an answer. "Dipper's? Should we have paid more attention to you or Stan?"

His question was instantly met with wide eyes and a shocked expression as Mabel finally looked up at him, catching his concerned expression. "NO! I mean...n-no. Never in a million years would I blame you or D-Dipper!"

"Alright..." Ford reached forward, wrapping an arm around her uninjured side and pulling her into his lap, her cast untouched. She sniffed pitifully, blinking up at him as he shifted a bit on the mattress and sighed. "Alright, so...if it's not your fault, or Stan's fault, or my fault, or Dipper's fault...what would you call that?"

Mabel rubbed a hand across her face, wishing she had a tissue on hand. "...a f-freak accident?"

"Now that sounds much better," Ford stated, brushing a hand down her hair and struggling to fix the tangled areas, moving strands out of her face. "Or you could blame the cops as well. Or the ground even. But never yourself. And despite Stan having been...involved in some way, I wouldn't...directly blame him either."

Mabel hummed in response, laying her head on her Grunkle's shoulder. The fabric of his sweater was soft and warm, and his coat still held the distinct smell of earth, and maybe cheap cologne. Despite the fact she had wanted to only wallow in her shame alone, she was kinda glad Ford had arrived. "...you're not mad at Stan, are you?"

"No, I'm not. He's already stated he's not mad at me anymore, so we truced." Ford lifted a handkerchief from within his coat in the multitude of secret pockets he kept, handing it to his niece, who was starting to smile at his reply. "Were you worried about that too? Us being mad at each other?"

"K-kinda." Mabel wiped the tears from her eyes, blowing her nose a bit before sheepishly glancing at Ford, who only dismissively shrugged. "...you're not supposed to be mad at each other. When Dipper and I get mad at each other, it's just a disaster. I was...kinda worried falling and breaking my arm made the tension even more cuckoo crazy."

Ford bent down to retrieve his cup, taking a swig of the coffee before nestling Mabel further in his arm. "If Stan and I are mad at each other, you don't ever need to worry about it, dear. Eventually, we'll make up, and if we don't within a week, feel free to intervene with...what was it you called? Attack glitter?"

"Oh, I have a whole stash of that!" Mabel chirped, her frown pulling up into a cheerful smile. The tears vanished, and she rubbed at the stains on her cheek. "I'll make a note to keep some for those incidents. I'll tell Dipper too! Maybe he'll go and buy some more...I think you'd look very nice in aqua glitter, Grunkle Ford!"

Ford nodded and quickly took another sip of coffee. He loved his niece dearly, and her creative spontaneous ways, but glitter was the one thing he wished to avoid. Mainly because it took three washes to remove it from his clothes. It interfered with camouflage during research. "...feeling better?"

Mabel paused, shifting her cast a bit and seeming to think before giving a confident nod. "A lot. Thanks, Grunkle Ford."

"I'll surely have the full solution to your problem come tomorrow morning," Ford assured as he swirled the coffee in his cup. Mabel eyed it curiously, raising her head a bit as if wanting to peer inside it. "...what'd you bring?"

"Coffee. I wanted to delve some more in research for the night."

"Great Uncle Ford, Stan already told us we needed to make sure you sleep!" Mabel said, taking the mug from his hand. "He really told us to kick you out if we woke up and saw you awake in the middle of the night, but your room's really far. You can sleep here with me and Dipper!"

Ford struggled to argue, reaching for his coffee. "Mabel, dear, I don't-"

"Oh! And Waddles!"

At the sound of his name, the pig raised his head, and slipped out of Dipper's grip. He hopped to the floor and as Mabel set Ford's mug on the ground, instantly attacked the beverage, slurping up the contents of the drink. Ford couldn't resist making a face as the pig raised its head, mug stuck to its snout, before clopping away. "...well, I suppose I have no choice then, do I?"

"Nope!" Mabel grinned and snuggled closer to him. Dipper suddenly shifted in his bed, turning over and blinking sleepily across the room, awakened by Waddle's rapid exit. "...Great Uncle Ford? Mabel? W-wha's goin' on?"

"...Stan will kill me if he finds out I kept you two up." Ford patted Mabel's back, and she reluctantly climbed back to her pillow. He shook out her comforter, laying it across her, and tucking her in with her cast the only thing out of the covers. Both pairs of wide brown eyes stared up at the author, Dipper now wide awake as he tried to figure out why his idol had visited.

Ford pulled the chair from the nearby desk, sitting between the two beds and clasping his hands between his knees, slightly leaning forward. "Okay. A bedtime story, then it's back to sleep for both of you."

"Mmm...I'm not tired," Dipper argued through a yawn. "I can help you, Great Uncle Ford. With...whatever it is you're awake for."

"No." Ford shot back, giving his nephew a pointed look before glancing back at his niece. "Besides, I was here for your sister, and her pain was already taken care of. Now..."

"Can you tell us about one of your big research projects?" Dipper asked excitedly, beaming from his spot in bed. "L-like...Like..."

"Ever met the Summerween Trickster?" Mabel suggested, burrowing into her covers and peering up happily as Dipper instantly agreed. "Yeah! That ol' guy. The one who was made of old candy..."

"You've met him?" Ford raised an eyebrow before straightening up. "He's actually quite fascinating! I never managed to document him, though...let's see, it was around the third summer I was living in Gravity Falls, my house was fully built and furnished. I already knew about Summerween, just never cared to participate, but that changed when a received a sudden visitor that night..."

And the author continued on, relaying his tale with elaborate detail and every little thing he could remember, from the fear and fascination he felt, from the certain types of candies he was forced to collect, to the strange looks he got as the local researching hermit dressed in a last-minute costume trick-or-treating for candy. His voice boomed over the rain, carrying itself throughout the attic, the perfect ambience for the twins. Mabel, despite her evident struggling, fell asleep first. Dipper closely followed.

Ford finished his tale once he realized both were sleeping soundly. Waddles returned and laid at his feet, the coffee cup dropping and rolling on the floor. Ford picked it back up, turning it over and finding not even one drop was left. He wasn't too fond on getting a refill either. He discarded it on the desk behind him before stooping down to pet the pig, the children's soft breathing coupled with the rain, the sound of drip-drip-drip as the leaks steadily dropped into the containers that had been carefully placed, the creaks and squeaks of the old Shack, Gompers bleating outside as he searched for cover, making up all of the background noise. It wasn't long before he himself felt sleepy.

The next morning, the rain had gone, clouds beginning to disperse. Stan went up to check on the twins before breakfast, and was surprised to find both children comfortably in bed, smiles on their faces, and his very own twin curled up on the floor with a pig in his arms.

"...oi, Poindexter."


	9. Fireworks

Didja miss me? Admit it, you missed me.

* * *

"Hey, kid! You're near the fridge, grab the butter, will ya?"

"Grunkle Staaan! You didn't clean the cups right again!"

"I apologize, Mabel, that was me."

"Grunkle Stan, I don't see any butter in here. Only margarine."

"Kid, just give it here. Stop bein' a wise guy."

"Grunkle Fooord!"

The kitchen bustled with energy, four different figures weaving around each other in an attempt to continue their routines for the morning. The scent of Stancakes and bacon wafted through the air. The sound of sizzling meat and the blender preparing the day's worth of Mabel juice was a cacophony, shouting words necessary to be heard. Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing the kitchen in bright yellow light. The storm clouds had long since passed, Soos had already gotten to work clearing out the gutters, and the mud puddles were slowly disappearing.

Stan grumbled under his breath as he flipped a pancake in the skillet, nearly elbowing Mabel in the face as she passed by with a container of glitter and a bag of plastic dinosaurs. He approved silently when Ford reached over from pouring a glass of orange juice to pluck the items from her hands and shake his head no. Dipper wove under his arm, the Journal in one hand and a banana in the other before he clambered up onto a kitchen seat. As busy as the kitchen tended to get, the energy resonating through the room was welcoming, a decent start for the day. It was better than waking up alone like he had months prior, Stan figured.

"Alright, let me just announce my plans for the day," Ford spoke once the blender stopped, and he eyed Mabel as she struggled to reach up to pour her drink into a glass, her bulky cast restricting her to a one-handed grip. The heavy blender wobbled in her hand, and Dipper abandoned his book to rush over to help her. "No, no, I got it!" Mabel insisted vehemently, but Dipper assisted anyway.

"If you're gonna warn me about possibly makin' the Shack combust," Stan began, flipping the last pancake onto a plate before shutting off the stove. "I'm puttin' a stop t' whatever crazy experiment it is you're doin'."

"I wasn't aware the substance was volatile to combustion! At least I took the precaution, even if-" Ford huffed, pushing up his glasses while grabbing his cup of orange juice and sliding into a seat beside the twins. "Anyway. I need those over-the-counter pills, however cheap they are, so I can work on those. And perhaps stock them for any later times."

"No one else is breakin' a bone here," Stan huffed, snapping down the plate of Stancakes in the middle of the table. Mabel reached over and dragged one on her plate before swiping up the syrup, and Dipper only glanced at the food in barely hidden disgust. "In fact, the amount of injuries in this place is skyrocketin' like nobody's business."

"I thought you were all about toughening us up," Dipper commented as his sister poured a copious amount of syrup over her breakfast. Ford slammed his orange juice down and quickly confiscated the bottle once the lake of syrup overflowed across the table and into his lap, and Mabel smiled at him sheepishly.

"Toughenin' ya up is one thing. Makin' me have t' think of more excuses for your parents is another," Stan stated, pointing a finger at the boy twin. "In fact, smart mouth, if that banana is all your eatin', go buy Ford those pills if ya got nothin' else better t' do." The businessman withdrew a ten dollar bill from his suit sleeve, staring at it reluctantly before throwing it Dipper's way and taking his seat. "Chop chop."

"Aw, Grunkle Stan," Dipper complained, shooting his Grunkle a reprouchful look as he caught the money. "I don't wanna go out now. I've decided to research more about the caves a mile or two in the north now that the rain's stopped! Mabel and I ran into those a while ago, but we didn't have time to investigate and-"

"Those are only temporary living grounds for the eyebats," Ford informed over his pancake, as Stan glanced over with coffee mug in hand. "And besides, they start migrating this time of year. All you'll find are some empty caves and perhaps a squirrel carcass or two."

"Oh. Ew." Mabel made a face as Stan triumphantly looked over at his nephew before jabbing a thumb towards the front door. "Out."

With a grumble, Dipper slid off his chair and stalked out of the kitchen, tugging his hat brim over his eyes. The front door slammed, and Stan rolled his eyes as he swallowed more of his morning coffee. He had a feeling he'd be draining the whole pot before the Shack even opened.

"And as for me!" Mabel shot up in her seat, the pancakes somehow already gone from her plate, or perhaps just dissolved completely in all the syrup. "Grenda and Candy invited me over! Grenda just got the new copy of Life with a Wolf Boyfriend and I just need to read it! It's a life-threatening situation, Grunkles!"

"Will you be alright with your cast?" Stan gestured to the clunky object in question, and Mabel grinned in his direction and lifted it up. "Yes! It's alright, Grunkle Stan, I think I can work with it! 'Sides, look! Grunkle Ford and Dipper even signed it!" She pointed to the signatures scrawled on the surface, tapping both before hopping from her chair. "I'll be back later!"

"Be back 'fore lunch. Last thing I need is ya t' be cryin' around the house in pain again. It disturbs my TV time."

Mabel nodded before zooming out of the kitchen, the door slamming shut in the same manner as her brother's, but more out of haste than anger.

"...you just hate seeing her in pain," Ford pointed out from his place near the counter, pouring a mug of coffee, and keeping it black as he chugged half of it down.

"Sure. Whatever." Stan scrubbed at the stubble on his jaw before tossing back the rest of his own coffee. He placed the mug back down with a thunk and waved a hand at his twin. "Now since I've got even a semblance of peace and quiet, get lost. I'd like eatin' my breakfast in peace."

"It's going to take more than gestures to chase me away," Ford assured, leaning on the counter with mug in hand. "Besides, I figured you might want to know the project I'm currently working on. Fourth of July is approaching, and pretty much in all dimensions, children adored fireworks. Well...dimension 481 was nothing more than a white expanse of nothingness, but I'm sure-"

"If ya think I'm gonna buy these kids expensive things just t' blow up..." Stan glanced at the newspaper in the middle of the table, the dreaded holiday ad displaying triple digits. "...you've got another thing comin'. I ain't spendin' hundreds of dollars on fireworks, and neither are you!"

"I wasn't going to propose that idea," Ford continued. "I know you don't believe it Stanley, but we're all well aware of your cheapness."

"Of course, I could get some nifty fireworks at a discount," Stan pointed out, musing as he rubbed his jaw. "Though, you'd gotta lift that whole no-more-buying-illegal-objects rule."

"I believe that was Mabel's idea, banning illegal activity for...what'd she say, a month?" Ford took a sip of coffee. "And for all of our safety, that rule is staying. No, you see, the project I've been working on is free of charge. Homemade fireworks!"

"I thought our safety was in consideration here," Stan grumbled, dragging the remaining Stancakes in front of him.

"No, Stanley, listen! I've managed to form some good creations!" Ford excitedly moved to the table, standing over the newspaper and its colorful ad with trademark red-white-and-blue palette. "My fireworks will be three times as brilliant as the manufactured type. They're a breeze to make, really. Gunpowder isn't too hard to get..." He paused, catching the pointed look from his twin. "...mind you, I acquired that long before Mabel's rule. Some sodium compounds, copper, a couple fuses, it's already half constructed! And this was one of those times I took very careful consideration regarding lab safety, if you're oh-so-concerned."

Stan sent his twin a reproachful look. "Ya know, making fireworks is illegal too."

"Or you could buy them." Ford shrugged, feeling triumphant at the face his brother made at the cruel suggestion. "But you and I both know, the children are going to want fireworks. Honestly, it'd be terrible not to indulge them. They've been through quite a lot the past few weeks."

"Yeah, someone takin' Dipper hostage. Never gonna live that down." Stan sighed over his coffee mug, avoiding his twin's gaze. "Go ahead, use your stupid nerd inventions."

"Yes!" Ford grabbed his coffee, taking off down the hall. Stan could hear his twin open the vending machine door, then promptly trip and roll down the stairs. He stuck a fork into his stack of pancakes, watching out of the corner of his eye as Waddles wandered in.

"...ya know, you're honestly the easiest one t' deal with," Stan confessed as he stuck a piece of pancake in his mouth.

Waddles only blinked in response.

* * *

"Look at THIS one, Dipstick! That one looks awesome! Ooh, and these ones are shaped like little tanks! And this one's pink and blue! Complimentary colors, Dip!"

Mabel knelt on the living room floor, a fireworks catalogue spread out before her, a green gel pen in her useable hand that she used to circle her favorites. No one questioned how exactly she got it in her possession, but the explanation most likely had Wendy involved. Dipper was draped across Stan's yellow armchair, solving a crossword puzzle and scratching at his ear with the eraser of his pencil. "Don't call me Dipstick," he merely commented before filling in one of his answers.

"Lookit this one! It's two hundred bucks, but sooo worth it!" Mabel pointed at the picture with her pen, turning back towards her inattentive brother. Her wide smile dropped at his lack of excitement. "Dipperrr, you're not looking!"

"Why would I want to, Mabel?" Dipper studied the puzzle for a second before jotting something down. "It's not like Grunkle Stan is gonna let us buy anything like that. So much as ten bucks will give him a heart attack."

"Just about anything nowadays could give him a heart attack," Mabel quipped, adjusting her cast. The pain had thankfully abided, but now she was laden with the burden of the extra weight.

"Besides," Dipper continued, peering at his sister over his work. "If I'd look at it, I'd want it, but I'm never getting it. It's torture in its own way."

"Wellll, maybe Grunkle Ford can buy something!" Mabel countered hopefully, flipping a page with a flourish. "These sparklers are pretty. And only three bucks! Aaaand you and I both know our Grunkles still wanna spoil us."

"Not us. You. Spoil you." Dipper filled in his last answer, before setting the puzzle down. "You're the one with a broken arm."

Before Mabel could argue, the gift shop door flew open by the swift kick of a person's boot. None other than Ford bounded in, his arms laden with a heavy-looking cardboard box. Both twins focused on it, their eyes widened simultaneously.

"Did somebody say fireworks?!" Ford declared, glancing alternatively at the twins through lopsided glasses.

"No," Dipper intoned.

"Oh." Ford sounded disappointed. "Well, that would've been perfect." He started for the foyer, and Mabel immediately scrambled to her feet, her catalogue forgotten. "Did you buy fireworks?! Big ones?"

"No I did not, my dear," Ford replied, looking over his shoulder towards the girl twin. "I _made_ fireworks. And before you ask, these have been marked as a scientific experiment and are in no way illegal."

"Who cares, it's fireworks!" Mabel cheered, as Dipper arched an eyebrow at the mysterious box. "Uh, Grunkle Ford? Normally, I'm not one to question your, uh, experiments, but-"

"Door, please," Ford rang out, standing before the front door. Mabel stood in a flash and obliged, watching Ford stride through before following immediately after. Dipper stammered, only slightly peeved at being ignored before he slid off the chair and followed them outside.

The sun was just beginning to set, dipping below the treetops, with the wooded landscape washed with brilliant orange hues. Mabel skipped around the dead lawn as Ford carefully set down the box with an unusual gentleness. Dipper tripped off the porch and rushed to his Grunkle's side, looking steadily more nervous.

"A-as I was saying, normally I don't criticize your stuff but don't you think this is a bit-"

"Oh, you never criticize my experiments, Dipper!" Ford assured. He withdrew a knife from his boot and slid it across the box flaps, tearing the tape. "To be fair, you often don't know enough to criticize correctly."

"...ouch," Dipper murmured, as Ford opened up the box with an exuberant grin. "But, uh, isn't this a bit dan-"

"It is fireworks!" Mabel hopped forward, banging shoulders with her brother as she studied the contents of the box. Ford proudly lifted objects out, setting them up on the dry lawn. He finally revealed one of the fireworks, painted a bold and brilliant red that contrasted sharply with the yellow grass. The fuse snaked over Ford's boot, and he looked immensely concentrated as he worked.

"It's a brilliant invention," he proudly explained, patting the thing like it was a cherished pet. "I've conducted a recipe from a far more advanced dimension. Gunpowder that's been enhanced, it can blow this baby for miles."

"Like in the movies!" Mabel gasped.

"But...can it blow a limb off?" Dipper meekly added, taking a step back and eyeing the firework like it'd bite him. "Grunkle Ford, I don't think this is a good idea!"

"All ideas are good ideas!" Mabel proposed, pointing at her brother accusingly.

"But it isn't!" Dipper pressed. "Mabel, you've already got a broken arm! I don't want you to lose a hand or something to a firework!" The boy hesitated, finally noticing Ford's concerned stare. "L-like, I totally trust you, Grunkle Ford, but..." The child straightened his back like a soldier demanding authority. "I don't condone this!"

Ford awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, feeling unusually chastised. His gaze flickered down to the firework in question, his frown deepening. "Ah...Dipper, I did this to make you and your sister happy." He hesitated when the boy didn't reply. "...it's a gift."

"Well...th-thank you." Dipper placed his hands on his hips, ignoring his sister's indignant noise. "But I'm not happy. Like, we really really appreciate it, but Mabel's already hurt! We just...shouldn't take risks is all!"

"You never wanna take any risks!" Mabel bit, her chipper attitude dwindling. "C'mon, Dip, everything in this place is dangerous!" She gestured to the woods, the Shack, their entire surroundings. "Anyone remember that near-apocalypse we had? 'Cause I sure do!"

"We don't need something else added to the mix, something that could blow you to pieces!" Dipper shot back vehemently, his anger making him quick in firing back.

"Oh, what do you know?!"

"That this is ridiculous! You're hurt!"

"I can take care of myself, Dipstick!"

"Alright, alright, settle down!" Ford stood between the twins, the children holding identical fighting stances. He wasn't sure if they ever actually physically quarreled, but he wasn't going to take chances. "Dipper, I promise you, if anything happens, I won't let you two get hurt. It's up to you if you want to help me set it off...but if you don't, I understand."

"I don't," The boy huffed.

"I do!" Mabel hastily fought in. She stuck her tongue out at her brother and Dipper promptly stuck his out in return.

"See, that's settled!" Ford clapped his hands together in fake glee, a false hopeful smile on his face. "No more arguments here!"

Dipper glared and Mabel huffed, but the argument ended there. After a beat, Mabel lifted her head, showing off puppy-dog eyes. "So...can I set it off?"

"Of course you can!" Upon hearing Ford's approval, Dipper spun on his heel and stomped back into the house. Mabel paid no attention to her moody brother, only giving him a single backwards glance before stooping down to the firework, balancing her cast on her knees. She gave the item a small poke. "Is it big?"

"Spectacular!" Ford assured, pulling a box of matches from his pocket.

* * *

Stan wandered into the living room with a Pitt Cola in one hand and a rolled up newspaper in the other, muttering under his breath about the latest profit margin. Upon his entrance, he paused, finding Dipper curled up on his yellow TV chair, the kid angrily glaring at the upholstery like it had personally pissed him off. Stan only waved his paper at the boy twin, his tone dry. "Yeah, gotta get rid of that weird lump in the couch."

When that didn't elicit a response from the kid, Stan heaved a sigh and approached. "Alright, kid, what's wrong? You're not one to mope around the house like this, that's Ford's job."

"S'nothing," Dipper grumbled, not even looking up as he tugged at the brim of his cap. "I'm fine."

"Don't believe ya." Stan waved his paper a bit more menacingly. "Spill it, or I'll smack ya."

Dipper seemed to consider the circumstances, before his pout intensified. "Grunkle Ford," he huffed, finally stretching himself out and facing Stan. "It's Grunkle Ford. He's got a box of...some kinda fireworks, and he didn't let me help!"

"Help set them up, or help make them?" Stan's tone was undoubtedly bitter, and he sounded displeased at his brother's latest invention.

"Yes," Dipper answered before sprawling back on the couch.

"He told me about it since morning, so don't be a killjoy, runt. He wanted it to be a surprise," Stan informed, glad to see the kid's eyes lift with sparkling curiosity and some form of assurance. "It's not a personal attack on ya, promise. Besides, making fireworks isn't something you oughta know."

Dipper's nose wrinkled at his Grunkle's words. "But you taught us counterfeiting, lock picking, hot wiring, the art of bank robbing in ten easy lessons-"

"Those could help you someday," Stan hastily interrupted. "Making weird inventions on the other hand, not so much."

Dipper snorted at that, but he pressed his cheek against the armchair and crossed his arms in the vague form of a pout. As good as a pout the kid could make anyway, nestled in the chair cushion. "And I just don't feel so good about it. I mean...I mean, I trust him, I do! I have to, he's my Grunkle, but what if something goes wrong?"

"You say that about everything, kid," Stan stated, taking a long sip of his soda.

"But it's true," Dipper insisted, his voice nearing a full-on whine. "Mabel already broke her arm. And now Ford's using some inter-dimensional gunpowder? Like, I'm all for personifications, but fireworks are terrifying, I got burned once! I mean, it was a sparkler and Mabel just got too close, but this is different! It's combustible and dangerous and insane-"

"Hold the phone." Stan set a firm hand on Dipper's head, squishing the kid's hat down. "...what did ya say about the gunpowder?" There was a beat of silence, as Dipper seemed wary of spilling the details. "Don't tell me that idiot went ahead and strayed from the book again."

Dipper stayed quiet.

"...well?" Stan slightly shook the boy twin's head. "Spill it, kid."

"But you told me not to tell you," Dipper replied in a thin voice, watching the horror wash over his Grunkle's face. "...is this bad? Please don't tell me it's bad."

Stan couldn't reply.

Both Grunkle and nibling were suddenly tossed to the floor as a huge blast echoed outside, reverberating throughout the trees. Screams rose, utterly frantic, and there was a beat before something crashed and the yells spiked in volume.

"...it's bad," Stan deadpanned.

They scrambled up from the floor, making the journey into the yard within seconds. Dipper screamed Mabel's name, stopping short once he reached the porch.

Multiple pine trees were thoroughly engulfed in flames, and a blaze was devouring the dead grass, approaching the Shack at a terrifying pace. Smoke filled the air in a gray haze, the scent of the wood burning something neither inhabitant had caught in a while.

"Mabel!" Dipper cried, intensely wishing it was only wood that was burning. Stan rushed for the hose, as Dipper leapt off the porch and raced through the grass, scanning the area for his sister. "Mabel, answer me!"

There was only the foreboding crackling of the burning trees above. He scanned the surroundings, trying to determine where the two could've hid while waiting for the blast. The woods seemed to be the only option, a good distance from where the firework had set off (a spot Stan was dousing in water and rapidly cursing at) and his heart sunk. If Mabel was there, she was directly underneath the trees, so close to the fire she surely had to be injured.

"Mabel, I'm coming!" Dipper hurried over, the heat rolling towards him in waves, and he coughed as the acrid smoke filled his lungs. Stan shouted after him, but the boy twin ignored his Grunkle, venturing into the closest brush and gasping for air.

Burning cinders swirled around him like snowflakes, the crackling nearly deafening. The trees were only a few feet away now, the fire so close he felt as if his eyebrows were singeing off. He desperately searched the area, digging through bushes, hoping he could catch a glimpse of a bright sweater or tan trench coat. Oh god, were those things flammable? Oh god, surely they couldn't have burnt away into nothingness! He would've noticed!

The fire raged, beginning to jump to other trees, and he found himself becoming steadily surrounded. Sirens shrieked in the distance, but he was only focused in finding Mabel amongst the brush. Any tears gathering at the corners of his eyes evaporated with the heat, and his face burned. He was slow-cooking really, he had to get out, but Mabel...

"Dipper!"

Oh, god, he was already hearing her voice.

"Dipper, we're over here!"

He was going insane, wasn't he? He was going to slowly wither away...

"Dipper, you doof, answer me!"

His back straightened and his head swiveled back towards the Shack. There his sister was, nestled in the arms of Grunkle Ford. The two of them were ash-ridden, black streaks covering their clothes, but they were alive, certainly alive. Dipper felt relief flood over him, even with the fire around him. They'd made it, and that's what mattered.

"Dipper!" Ford snapped, his voice resonating through the crackling of the fire before he deposited Mabel on the floor and began running in Dipper's direction. "Dipper, come back, it's too dangerous! You need to-"

An ear-splitting crack sliced through the air, sending a shock of energy through Dipper's spine. The boy stepped a pace to the side and raised his head in panic.

A limb from the tree above him fell towards him, completely on fire. Once it hit him, everything went black.

* * *

"This place smells weird."

Stan strode through the hospital's hall, his shoes squeaking against the linoleum and echoing down the blindingly white path. He shut his mouth, looking out of the corner of his eyes to see both his brother and Mabel glaring in his direction.

"What?!" Stan defended, throwing his arms in a helpless shrug. "It does!"

"Be sensitive, Stanley," Ford admonished, shifting his hold on Mabel as they turned a corner. The young girl had been in his arms for the past hour...hour and a half? Maybe even two. With Dipper being whisked away in an ambulance, and the rest of the family forbidden from going with, the ride had felt far too long.

Mabel shifted her cast, wearily laying her head on Ford's shoulders as they entered the elevator. Stan confirmed the floor with Ford, then punched the right button, and they ascended to the children's ward.

"He's okay, right?" Mabel's voice was thin, and she sniffed hard at the incoming tears. She regretted the action, since all she got was a whiff of smoke from Ford's coat.

"He'll be fine," Ford assured. "His burns were first-degree. The only things past saving are his clothes."

"I'm not payin' for that," Stan mumbled. "In fact, once that kid can walk, we're bailing this joint. I'm not paying that medical bill."

"I'll pay," Ford sighed, as the elevator doors opened, revealing colorful walls decorated with countless murals. They walked forward as Ford grumbled. "Was mostly my fault anyway."

"It was," Stan bit, sounding fully annoyed. "Seriously, Sixer? Inter-dimensional gunpowder?"

"It seemed a good idea at the time!" Ford countered, but was promptly shut up as Mabel slammed a hand against his face. He made a small noise of protest as Mabel shrieked and pointed. "Stop! There, room 56!"

"I thought it was 65," Stan voiced.

"Well, it's not," Mabel snapped. "It's 56, I know it, they said those exact numbers! Also, that's the number for how many pancakes we ate in one sitting, I remember, so that's gotta be it!"

"Well, you're the genius here, kiddo." Stan gestured to the door as Ford lowered the child to the ground. "Go on ahead."

Mabel twisted the doorknob and pushed her way in, already calling her brother's name before she even passed the threshold. Stan and Ford mutely followed, watching as the girl immediately bounded to the bed.

"Mabel!" Dipper was awake and surprisingly alert, sitting in the hospital bed almost resignedly. His floppy hair hung over his eyes, the ends singed and uneven, his hospital gown hanging off of him as if it were two sizes too big. His torso and arms were covered in sterile fabric, the red burns on his skin looking painful, but he accepted Mabel's hug nonetheless with a happy smile. The twins embraced for a solid ten seconds, and Ford had to carefully extract Mabel without hurting Dipper further.

"Nice place ya got here," Stan said, eyes scanning the baby blue room with animal motifs on every fabric surface. Even Dipper's gown was covered in the cutesy design. "And by nice, I mean the exact opposite."

Dipper offered a lopsided smile, his slightly singed eyebrows making him look even goofier. "I'll manage."

"How're you feeling? Are you doing okay? Do you need water, soup, another hug?" Mabel pressed against the bed's mattress, her cast pushing against her brother's leg.

"Fine. Yes. No, no, and for now, no." Dipper painfully brushed his fingers against his arm, past the burn cream slathered onto the more milder areas. "How about you? You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"I'm not the one in a hospital bed, silly." Mabel propped her chin on her hand.

"How long did you guys wait?" Dipper finally turned to his Grunkles, noting the exhausted expressions on both their faces. "It's already night. I think we've been here a while."

"A very long while. The doctors wouldn't let us in or tell us much for a good chunk of time there," Stan informed, sounding peeved. "Do you remember anythin', kid? Any event back there ya can piece together?"

"I know it was that firework that started it," Dipper assured, shifting against the dotted pillow propping him up. "And I ran into the forest looking for you guys and something fell. But everything after that is just a blur. I think I passed out, because I feel like the next time I woke up, I was in this bed."

"Well, I guess that's kinda good. You skipped most of the bad parts." Stan rubbed his chin, giving a look towards Ford. When his twin stayed silent, Stan continued. "Ford reached ya right when that branch fell, so he hoisted that thing off and rolled off the flames off whatever clothes ya had. That vest of yours is a goner."

"Aw, man." Dipper huffed.

"But it's a miracle he reached ya at the right time. First-degree burns, you're pretty darn lucky given those circumstances."

"And Stan doused you with the hose!" Mabel added. "Well, he sprayed all of us, but mostly you."

"That explains the damp hair." Dipper ran his hands through the hair in question before pausing. His eyes flickered up, gaze landing on a rather silent Ford. "So you saved my life."

Ford gave a humorless laugh, waving a hand from his crossed-arms position. "No, Dipper. That fire was my fault alone. If anything, I dumped you in the problem, then pulled you back out like I oughta. It was mandatory, really."

"But you saved me," Dipper insisted, and Mabel looked concerned as he gaze shifted between the two. "You saved Mabel! You still got us both out, I think that's worthy enough of a thanks."

"Not entirely." Ford scratched his chin, feeling as if his family's gazes made him shrink. It wasn't pleasant. "You were right. I shouldn't have tried creating fireworks out of all things. Should've done some sparklers or something instead, would've been a far more...safer route."

"And less all...destroying nature-y," Mabel pointed out.

"Regardless of my heroic actions, I don't deserve any praise." Ford tugged at his collar, knowing Stan's eyes were boring into him. "I put you two in danger, again, and I'm sorry. I think I'm...I might reside to the bunker for a while from here on out."

"What?! Why?!" Both twins cried in unison, Mabel closing her exclamation with a gasp.

"You've sustained enough injuries, and this has proven I'm most dangerous!" Ford insisted. "Mabel already broke her arm, and now you're in the hospital out of all things...I couldn't bear it if I caused further harm. So it's settled. I'm moving into the bunker until the summer's over."

Ford finally cast a glance at Stan, catching the sour look on his brother's face. Stan's glare was icy, his scowl displaying enough disapproval at the idea.

"Are you stupid?"

Surprisingly, that comment didn't come from Stan.

Both brothers turned back to the bed, finding Dipper glaring at the two of them with a look he only could've inherited. Mabel looked just as annoyed, her cheeks puffed in irritation, one arm over her cast in the substitution of a pout.

"...excuse me?" Ford weakly replied.

"Are you stupid?" Dipper repeated, with absolutely no sympathy. "Like...that's not the answer to this!"

"Definitely not!" Mabel added.

"You're our reckless and crazy Grunkles, this kind of stuff is bound to happen at some point. With the town we're in, I'm surprised we came this far without being landed in a hospital really."

"It's a miracle!"

"But even if you guys unintentionally hurt us..." Dipper paused, as if pondering over his words. "...we still love you. A lot. And we'd miss you if you decided to isolate yourselves off somewhere, like it'd help us."

"Because it won't!"

"And all we gotta do here on out is be a bit more careful. But it's okay, 'cause we forgive you for anything you guys did, including today, and we'll just try to be less clumsy ourselves. So you can't leave us! You've gotta stay at the Shack, like it or not!"

"And so is decreed!" Mabel pounded her fist on the mattress and Dipper nodded in her direction. "Thank you, Mabel."

"Well..." Stan hesitated, looking over at Ford, who looked a cross between stunned and fighting not to cry. "...ya know what, we can't fight against a Mabel law."

"No, we certainly can't." Ford swiped at an eye under his glasses, clearing his throat upon his brother's look. "The, uh. The chemicals of the floor cleaner are irritating, is all!"

"C'mon, bring it in!" Mabel held out her free arm and Dipper held out his, a clear invitation.

The four hugged, erupting into laughs and giggles and declarations of happiness. Stan tousled Dipper's hair and Ford kissed the top of Mabel's forehead and thanked her genuinely. Eventually, the four broke upon Dipper's squeaks of pain.

There was a beat of silence.

"...I was serious about bailing," Stan informed.

"Can you walk?" Ford addressed Dipper.

"I think so."

"Very well."

Soon, the four Pines members were rushing into the parking lot with alarms blaring behind them, piling into Stan's car, and taking off down the road in a mariachi-music-blasting blur.


End file.
